


Silence

by kleptokalon



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Kakashi, BAMF Naruto, Character Centered, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Gayness, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, KakaNaru - Freeform, M/M, Mute - Freeform, OOCness, So is Kakashi, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, many plot holes, naruto back in time, naruto is emotionally constipated, obviously, slight plot somewhere in there, the generic time travel fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-10-01 07:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleptokalon/pseuds/kleptokalon
Summary: War changed him, silenced him. Then he came back to the past. He gave himself a new name, and is set to try and get a new life in Konoha. And yet, it hurt more than he could take.Upfront disclaimer- I don't own Naruto!Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad under the same pen name.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aka, Naruto goes back in time- plus, the pairing is Kakashi x Future!Naruto. Please don’t immediately launch hate just because of the pairing, especially without reading it. If you don’t the pairing then click out of the tab and find a different story, which would save you much more time than bitching.  
> Onward with the story!

The shadows hummed. They chanted a song amidst the breathing forest and swirling waters. The buzz of the humming slipped through the musty air and swayed in the branches and leaves. The darkness was hidden yet seen. It was nowhere and everywhere at once. It suffocated the world with its terrifying whispers, manipulating all life it crossed. Happy thoughts were swept away, new, much darker ones closing in. It changed destiny and fate, changed very beings from emotions to actions and struck through the heart. It penetrated what was said to be unbreakable, unbeatable.

The horrifying touch of shadows breached the world, closing in around one person, one being that lived in darkness. He embraced its cool tendrils and grasped its freezing fingers in his own. He stayed in the deep, unforgiving hums, forever looking for light.

But there was none. In the night there was no sun. In the sky there was no moon, no stars to show the way, to guide him home and out from the blackened deep. He stayed down, drifting through nothing, just a blank, empty shell. There was  _ nothing _ to fill that shell. 

He hummed along with the shadows, long crimson hair curling around. He seemed to float, feet making no sound upon the soft ground, movements barely distinguishable from each other, every step marked by another with an otherworldly presence.

The landscape was unmarred by any volume except for those soft hums that resonated with the breeze. The stranger remained blank, no emotion shining on his face. He merely went on without purpose, simply living for the sake of living. Death haunted him a step behind, unhindered by the stranger, only welcoming its ominous presence.

As he travelled, the world made way.

A scarf wrapped around his head, obscuring the lower half of his face. His deep violet eyes glinted in the dark. Even though they could not see life as brightly as they used to, were merely dead, those startling violet eyes cast a gaze at every surrounding.

The traveller moved with the breeze, dead eyes set upon one destination...

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Shinku, an S-Ranked mercenary to the people.

To himself, Hisato.

His former life as Namikaze-Uzumaki Naruto, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, whiskered, Number One Unpredictable Shinobi of Konoha was no more, and had been for a gruelling three months. Out of all the names he had to choose, it were the ironic ones. Uzumaki, he had kept, because his waist-length red hair was unmistakable. His eyes had changed to a deep, glassy violet hue, and pupils forever slit like that of a fox. His canines were elongated, but not overly so. For a 24 year-old, he looked fairly young for his age, and was also shorter than the average man.

He had chosen his new name with resigned vigour. Kioshi meant silent, and he had very much become mute. The last he had spoken were many a year ago, and he had forgotten his own voice. It didn’t trouble him as much as he thought it would, being one to express himself through words. War did that to people. His name, Hisato meant long lived, or long life, befitting of some who was so hard to kill.

Thinking back on it, Hisato wondered how he was still alive. Kurama had plenty to do with that, even after he had given the last of his endless chakra and faded away. Every wound the Uzumaki received was quick to heal.

It was a blessing to one who needed to live and protect his people; a curse to one who wanted nothing more to do with a war-torn world.

He had no purpose to fight any longer. It had vanished when the war ended and he was thrust back in time. But violence was a necessary thing, even in this time of piece. It was a  brutal reminder of reality, a cruel thing that pacifists like he and Itachi were forced to use.

And here he was, travelling to his home, where all his precious people were still alive and waiting, yet  _ not _ . Because though they bore the same faces, and same mannerisms, they were not  _ his  _ people, the people he had spent over a decade fighting to protect.

Konoha’s gates were a tall existence, barring the view of outsiders from the world within. At its feet, two familiar shinobi stood.

Kotetsu and Izumo eyed him as he cleared the rim of the forest and approached them with a firm gait. He kept his hood up, hiding his scarred face from view.

Kotetsu cleared his throat, “State your business here.” Hisato did not speak. He reached within his cloak slowly, and pulled out a folded note. Izumo took it, cautious, and skimmed through its contents. His eyes widened and he thrust the sheet into his partner’s hand. Kotetsu had a similar reaction.

“Uzumaki,” he whispered disbelievingly. Hisato nodded and before they could question him more, he untucked a long braid from his hood, letting the silky tail rest outside his cloak. The two shinobi stared at it. 

Time slipped by until the sun set, and Hisato waited patiently.

He sensed a very familiar chakra signature closing in from behind, and twisted around to meet the newcomer, Hatake Kakashi. The jounin came to a halt a few feet away, visible eye resting on the unveiled hair. His silver hair was the only part of Kakashi that looked fresh. His attire was rumpled and slightly stained, face-mask firmly in placed and slanted hitai-ate drooping. He remained undeterred by the Uzumaki hair, though his eye showed otherwise, flaring a bit in surprise.

“Kotetsu, Izumo, the shinobi will come with me. Don’t worry, I can keep my eye on him.” The shinobi returned to their posts with stiff knees, whilst the Hatake led Hisato through the open gates and into Konohagakure.

As they walked through the quiet streets, the Uzumaki tucked in his hair. He spied the jounin walking in a relaxed state. Mirroring the pace, he reached his hands out from his cloak. Kakashi faced him warily, and watched as he signed, [ _ Arigato _ ]. His escort merely nodded in return and they basked in a comfortable silence.

“Are you well acquainted with Uchiha Itachi?” Kakashi asked hesitantly, clearing the silence. The hesitance was understandable.  _ Never  _ pry into a shinobi’s private life, especially a stranger.

Hisato nodded slowly. At Kakashi’s suspicious gaze, he sighed. His hands flew through signs, knowing the jounin could understand. [ _ Itachi is a good person. He was put into a tight spot and made a hard decision, that is all. _ ] Kakashi hummed and became deep in thought. 

The Hokage Tower appeared high before them. The lights were on and flickering brightly in the top floors. Hisato could sense the ANBU stationed in the Tower. Many shinobi were going in and out the front doors, missions completed or just beginning. Kakashi set up the wall, hands in his pockets. Hisato smiled and followed him, shuddering at the nostalgia.

He calmed his breathing, knowing that the Sandaime, his grandfather figure, awaited him in his office. And that whilst he knew the Hokage, the Hokage would not recognise him. At this moment, he was a potential enemy and threat to the village.

The windows showed a tired, old man at his desk. Surrounding him were multitudes of paperwork stacks. The old man was breathing out, pipe held aloft and releasing smoke rings into the air. Kakashi flared his chakra twice and jumped through the window. He briefly explained the situation to the Hokage and signalled for him to come in.  _ Jiji,  _ Hisato thought solemnly, shooting to Kakashi’s side.

He bowed deeply, ignoring the well hidden shock that spiked in the room at his speed. He kept his eyes down, averting from the Hokage’s penetrating stare. He rose and dared to meet that old gaze.

Eyes were on him as he signed [ _ Request for privacy. My information must remain secret. The scarecrow can stay. _ ] The jounin beside him twitched in annoyance. Hiruzen flicked his hand and the ANBU disappeared completely. Seals flashed, containing sound within the room and preventing eavesdroppers.

Hisato raised his hands and lifted the hood from his face. It fell back to reveal his red hair, seemingly stained with darker shades that resembled blood. Dull violet eyes remained carefully blank of emotion. They recognised the shape of his features as strikingly similar to that of Kushina, though his outline was sharper. Kakashi stared at his hair. It was the Uzumaki hair and Kitsune fur combined, in thin highlights of light and dark red.

He felt their eyes on the faint scars across his neck, one vertically from the right of his chin to his collarbone, the other horizontal at the top of his throat, like someone had tried and almost succeeded in slitting his throat to spill his lifeblood.

Hiruzen narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “No doubt you’re an Uzumaki. What is your name, boy?” he asked. Hisato approached the desk and fished out a brush, ink and paper from within his cloak. He dipped the brush, and wrote fluidly, characters appearing on the page in the spurt of a moment. He stepped back and let them read.

“Kioshi? Silent. How fitting,” Kakashi muttered.

“Well, Hisato, what brings you to Konohagakure?”

The Uzumaki bowed his head. [ _ I am looking for home _ .] Not  _ a  _ home. It could  _ never  _ be just a home. This place was his  _ world,  _ a world that he had lost once before.

He tried to stop the emotions swirling out of him, knowing that the two shinobi in the room might sense them. Those emotions told a story of long years absent from home, only searching. And here he was, at a place resembling his home, but all alone, not a precious person left in his sight.

The Sandaime Hokage smiled. There was empathy interlaced in the smile. The old man got out of his chair and crossed the room. Hisato fought not to flinch when hands suddenly grasped his shoulders in comfort.

“Then, perhaps, you can complete your search here,” Hiruzen said, ever gentle. “Please, tell me about yourself.”  _ Can I trust you? _

Hisato sat down and signed to the two that his home had been destroyed. He had fled and for the last few years had been looking for a new place to belong. Konoha was the only place he felt that way, as it had been where his ‘cousin’, Kushina, had lived for the majority of her life.

“We need strong shinobi like you,” the Hokage began. “Would you do me the honour of becoming a ninja of Konoha?” Hisato’s eyes widened. He felt relief flood through him.  _ I’m home, I’m home, I can call this place home again. _ He nodded, tears slowly filling his eyes. A hitai-ate was placed in his hand, but he could barely see it. He clasped his fingers over it, holding it reverently.

“You are now a jounin of Konohagakure no Sato. Do you declare utmost loyalty to your village? Would you not hesitate to die for it?” A small flame lit in his eyes. The Will of Fire. He nodded, not bothering to sign. It was not needed.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Sarutobi was left alone in his office, the quiet as his only company.  _ Uzumaki, eh? _

He sighed at the reminder of the clan’s annihilation. They had been their allies for countless years, and yet Konoha could do nothing but stand by and watch as the powerful clan was slaughtered mercilessly.

It seems Kushina was not the only Uzumaki to remain alive post the carnage.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_ It's Hi no Kuni. But it’s not. It's Konohagakure, but not. In place of the once beautiful village was only a rancid landscape of war. _

_ Gore and lost souls were the rulers of this world, a world governed by lust and violence instead of one of love and peace. _

_ The fighting was all for naught. People were losing hope, losing friends and family. The count of survivors was dimming by hundreds every day and every hour. There were a bare few left. Only two, perhaps. _

_ Konoha was last to perish in this one-sided war against Madara. Why had it come to this? They were winning, Naruto was sure they were. Then the ancient Uchiha was back and the tide was turned once again. _

_ He and Sakura stood back to back in one last effort to win, though their hopes were dimmer than ever. Kurama had given up the last of his endless chakra to give them strength. _

_ The clones came from all sides. Flashes of white amidst the land of ash and soot. The ease in which he and Sakura struck down enemies was worsening. They were tired. Dreadfully tired. _

_ Exhaustion ached at their bones and muscles. Their minds were worn from the horrors of the seven-year war. The death of their comrades, the destruction of their precious home. _ _  
_ _ The gear that protected them lay tattered and bloodied on the rubble. His shirt had split at so many seams. Sakura was down to the thinnest layer of her underclothes, reinforced tights barely covering her thighs. _

_ Naruto sliced down another wave of zetsu clones. His wind chakra cut its way into the bodies, and the nine-tails chakra made them sprout into trees. The only trees in a place famous for its forest. Behind him, he heard Sakura's battle cry and the tearing of the earth beneath. _

_ Hours on end, they fought. Well into the night, red moon glittering dimly above them, and still they fought. _

_ Their exhaustion increased. And yet they could not stop. They fought for their future and for each other, the bond of brother and sister the only thing they had left. _

_ Naruto spared a glance to Sakura’s crimson hair and yellow eyes. He fingered his own red hair before shooting a suiton jutsu at the clones. Kurama’s chakra had changed them physically. The natural colour of their eyes and Kurama’s had mixed. _

_ The pain of his worn out body was close to unbearable. He shook his head to clear the dizziness and looked around desperately. Sakura was far away, a massive horde of zetsu upon her. _

No, no, no _ , he chanted. He pushed his legs to sprint, to reach her in time. _

_ She took down a dozen with feeble punches. The distance between them seemed so achingly long. His hands began to shake from how  _ helpless _ and  _ weak _ he felt. _

This is _ not  _ the end _ , he thought.  _ Please don’t.

_ He watched as a killing blow came at Sakura. She collapsed to her knees, defeated. The clone’s fist sharpened to a blade. It flew to her chest. He tried to sprint faster but it was utterly futile. _

NO! _ He wanted to scream as she was impaled. Naruto tried to deny it, the unfairness of it all. His outstretched hand fell limp. He forced himself to stay upright and a new emotion emerged within him. Rage. _

_ New energy fizzed in him and his chakra reacted to the icy anger. It surged around him in a red bubble of power. _

_ The clones were knocked out instantly, trees sprouting up and filling the torn area. His chakra dispersed as grief overtook his rage. Tears sprang to his eyes because it was his  _ sister  _ and the last precious person he had left. He turned his eyes from the gaping hole in her chest and the blood that spilt out despite Sakura’s hand over it. He dropped beside her and gently moved her into his lap. _

Sakura,  _ he tried to start, but no sound came out. Her name sat burning in the back of his throat. She just glanced at him, a soft smile on her bloodied face. He scrunched his eyes closed and bowed his head, silent sobs escaping. A cool hand rested on his cheek. Naruto forced his eyes open, vision glazed from tears. _

_ “I’m sorry. That bastard got me,” she laughed but the sound ended in a fit of coughs. Naruto wanted her to stop talking, to save her strength, but she was  _ dying  _ and it was pointless to hope. He let out a shuddering breath and held onto her hand. “Please don’t cry, Naruto. I can send you back in time, just as the furball showed me.” He barely registered her words. He tried to speak, to say he was sorry too but he knew he couldn’t. _

_ Sakura died, he wanted to die too. There was nothing left to live for. _

_ Sensing his thoughts, she continued, “Tomorrow, the sun will rise, just as the moon will go down. The birds will sing, the forest will breathe as it always has.” Naruto almost laughed,  _ what forest? What birds?  _ “Life is bright and unyielding, even when all seems so dark and you haven’t a shred of hope left.” _

_ He shuddered with his quiet weeping and his hand tightened around Sakura’s.  _ Why are you saying this? You can’t die!

_ “Don’t give up,” she said, and the words stuck in his mind, “Don’t falter. Promise me that, promise me.” Her voice was strong even through the pain. And when she finally passed on, eyes closing slowly and body going limp, Naruto could do nothing but promise her. _

_ When the light of her final jutsu was cast around him, he bowed his head once again, full of respect and regret. _

_ As she passed on, he couldn’t even say  _ I love you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto  
> Warnings: More flashbacks, descriptive violence, gore, etc.

Hisato opened his eyes to a dirty old ceiling. His breathing was swift and shallow, and his hands dripped with cold sweat. He panted, trying to slow down his heart and regain control over his wayward emotions.

Despair drifted on the approaching horizon, bringing with it a new day among the company of people he long thought of as dead. He pushed down on his grief and swung his legs around to the floor. The room was just beginning to fill with light.

He cleared himself of dirt and grime for the first time in over a week. His clothes were newly cleaned; long, forest green scarf that covered his neck and up to his mouth; loose, rusty orange shirt with sleeves that ran down to his wrists; black shinobi pants and sandals, taped at the shin; and his hair. stayed in a lengthy braid against his back.

His new apartment held two rooms, a standard bathroom and open living. The kitchen was yet to be stocked with food and the apartment itself was bare of any personalisation. Hisato ran through design plans and a shopping list. 

He set to cleaning the apartment after breakfast.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Hisato spent the morning wandering around Konoha and absorbing all the sights. Everyone seemed light and cheery, full of something that he had not seen for years. Buildings were intact, not charred, not leaving behind a sea of burning embers.

A smile almost twitched on his face but Sakura’s death lingered in his mind and etched for his attention. He turned away. Hisato’s hands shook at his side, clenched into tight fists. It was an aftereffect of the war. Though he could stay hidden and unmoving when he needed to, they never ceased their trembling. Only when he worked on his seals did they stay steady.

Warm chakra spiked nearby. He glanced to the side. Kakashi had his face in Icha Icha Paradise, shoulders in their usual lazy slouch. The jounin didn’t mutter a greeting.

They went on in silence, down the streets with no clear destination. It was a relaxing break. Hisato preferred it like this. He didn’t have to use his shaky hands to sign, didn’t have to listen and respond. Two antisocial shinobi together simply basking in the ease of the other’s company.

Hisato let his mind wander. There were so many enemies out there, so many targets. Kill them and they cannot wreak a war upon the land. But kill them and he takes lives.

In his life as Naruto Uzumaki, he had gained a nickname through his brutal missions. He had staged massacres, killed thousands. Innocents, too. And because of that, people called him the Shinigami, the Death God. They feared him. They hated him and wished for his death. His hands are red, always red. He cannot see clean hands, for they weren’t clean. And he hated that, hated himself.

Kakashi seemed to recognise the sudden melancholy, and glanced at Hisato. The redhead held such inner turmoil, but he paid it no heed, and kept his face blank. He kept the emotions off his face like he had for many years. To let them see is to hurt them as well. To let them see, is to let them know his weaknesses. They would only try to help, but he didn’t want help, he wanted silence.

Kakashi turned away, and Hisato inwardly sighed in relief. He couldn’t let his emotions hinder him from his goal.

The two had somehow ended up at Ichiraku Ramen. He composed himself as they walked in and sat at the bar. No one else had come in, and surprisingly, there was no little Naruto here for breakfast. He almost let a frown cross his face at that.

“What will you be ordering?” Kakashi’s voice cut into his pondering. Hisato grabbed a menu and looked for the miso. He pointed to it so the Hatake could see.

At that moment, Teuchi came from the back and asked what the two would like.

“Two miso, please,” Kakashi requested.

“Coming right up,” Teuchi said, disappearing once again.

His companion took the opportunity to reopen his book and continue reading, though Hisato could tell he was distracted.

Kakashi hadn’t even turned the page when their miso was done.

Hisato looked at the food set in front of him. He bowed his head in thanks, and waited for the old man to leave. Truthfully, he wasn’t very hungry. He didn’t need much anyways.

Beside him, Kakashi was already finished, mask back in place as if he hadn’t eaten at all. He turned back to his own dish, and grudgingly picked up the chopsticks. He slowly ate, getting about halfway done before placing his chopsticks back down and covering his mouth with the green scarf once again.

Kakashi looked at him when he did that, and a scowl was just visible underneath the mask. The jounin’s eyes travelled to his torso, and Hisato suddenly felt self-conscious. His clothes didn’t exactly hide his skinny frame, the prominent rib cage and barely anything below that. It didn’t hide the arms that had no fat and visible muscle.

“You don’t eat enough,” Kakashi murmured, more to himself. “Eat. You need it.” Hisato shook his head. He was already full anyway. He used his hands to say so. Kakashi eyed him again, with some doubt, but didn’t comment.

“Shall we walk?” the other asked. Hisato agreed, and after placing money on the counter, they left.

Kakashi took him through the places they didn’t go to that morning. It was a lot like a tour, except there were no words and no one was leading. Hisato took it all in and finally let a smile drift onto his face.

They meandered through the alleys and quiet streets, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the markets. In the end, they came to the library. Kakashi had put his book away, and they went up the levels to the jounin area.

His companion didn’t explain why they were there, instead gazing at the spines of all the books. Hisato found himself a book on psychology, and took a seat in a secluded area. Kakashi soon joined him with a book of his own, this on Fuuinjutsu. Hisato saw the name on the front cover.  _ Namikaze Minato. _ It was a book on the basic principles of sealing as well as intermediate theory. He remembered reading it, along with all the other books on sealing in this library.

He absently flicked through his book. The contents seemed to strike at him, and he found himself looking away, trying not to read the sections on trauma or look at the graphic images spread throughout. It went in depth about types of trauma and its effects, as well as ways to deal with it. Most of which was therapy. The pictures blurred out as he focused elsewhere, and his thoughts returned to war.  Perhaps he should have closed the book.

When evening settled in Konohagakure, Hisato found himself alone at an abandoned training ground. The village was almost ready to sleep, and the night patrols had begun to emerge.

He went through quick stretches and a short warm up. He let the rush of cool wind guide him through intense kata, driven by speed and grace.

Hisato flipped through the air, following through with punches and kicks. He sliced the night with blades formed by chakra.

The scene turned into something else. The dark, the silence, the speed. He let his emotions guide him. Passion drove his strength. Ambition fueled his speed. His goal drove his grace and elegance. He twisted as one with the wind, blended as one with the shadows.

Striking and crushing, his kata were fierce and swift.

He became the night once again, a God of Death in his movements, leaving behind marks of chaos. And then came the memories.

Memories of massacre after massacre.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

_ No one had been spared. _

_ No single person, no innocent being. Not even plants or trees. There was no way out. _

_ The massacre was brutal and fast. Hisato’s hand had slayed them all in quick streams of movement. A delicate body was no match for his swift jutsus and fiery dance of fists. _

_ Gore was what described the scene. An ever-expansive landscape of blood and bursting organs. The grass was stained red, the bark of the trees left moist with the innards of the slaughtered people. _

_ There was no smile on his hidden face, no mocking smile leering at the dead. The dead that could see no longer. _

_ Rain cried tears of what was not water, a great storm of bloodshed and broken dreams. It drew past the horizon in an endless sea of angry black clouds. _

_ Victory was given to him freely. His assassination technique lay waste with black flames, turning corpses to ash and plants to burning dust. He was utterly silent in his victory, and his likeness to the Shinigami was uncanny. A seemingly unbeatable God yet to be plundered by enemies and the vengeful spirits of those he slayed. _

_ In his stead, a wasteland of nothing was left. _

_ And in the crimson rain,  _ not a tear was shed.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Night was a terrifying yet beautiful time. Hisato loved the sky, and the freedom of the stars it held. He enjoyed just gazing at them, wasting hours away.

He finished training bare moments ago. Blood still flitted through his mind. The gloomy weather only fuelled it. Not that he could have slept anyways. The previous night was one of the rare few times he had slept, and even that ended in horrific nightmares.

He didn’t bother to change his clothes. Instead, he shunshinned to the Yondaime’s head on the Hokage Mountain.

Hisato sat in the rain, letting it patter on his face. The rain was warm and comforting. He sighed as it drenched his clothes. The fabric stuck to his skin. He pulled down his scarf and took a deep breath of the musty air. He watched the moon rising and the stars flickering. He focused on the sky and tried to forget his troubles, his distraught mind. His pain and grief had no place in Konoha. It belonged to another time, a time long since gone. It would only distract him from his goals.

His lifestyle was not healthy, Hisato knew that. Because he barely ate, his body was malnourished and his skin was pallid. He had slept only a few fitful nights since the war erupted. He was mentally exhausted. Flashbacks of the war made him stressed and tired. His mind held on by mere tethers, stretched thin by pain and bone-aching weariness. Hisato didn’t really want to sleep.

If anyone were to look and truly see, he would look like a starlit soul, lost and alone. His pallid skin would shine more than ever, tinted with blue and glistening white by the stars. His face would hold a tragedy, an untold story that no one could ever hope to understand. The rain would still the air and still time. He would be a frozen picture, an illustration orchestrated by a nightmare.

The hours wore on. He was bathed in water and starlight. His eyes dimly reflected the stars and moon. Rain pounded down around him. Flashes of lightning painted the night.

Thunder rumbled loudly.

He was really... really... tired.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

A week went by. Hisato was cleared for missions. He completed an A-Rank, and dirtied his hands once more.

It seemed that the Hokage had noticed that he wasn’t as fine as he presented himself. Kakashi had waited for his return at the gates. They ate dinner together the night before in familiar silence. When Hisato pushed his bowl away, barely eaten, his new friend moved it back and gazed at him threateningly until he ate some more.

Kakashi understood that Hisato couldn’t eat all of it without throwing up. He knew, too, that Hisato was hiding behind a pleasant mask. He could sense the pain, but he could not see it.

The steady companionship that had developed was the only source of light Hisato had. There were no others to go to, and no fox to talk to. He kept away from the jonin lounge with a fierce determination. All that awaited him there were faces of people he knew to be dead.

Hisato spent a lot of his free time with Kakashi. They found a routine in going to the library for some quiet away from the shinobi life. Hisato answered whatever question directed at him. In return, he asked his own.

They didn’t open up about their pasts, respecting boundaries. But they did indeed find solace in the other and said what was troubling them. Hisato found a calm spot in the high tides when he was with Kakashi.

But his demons still waited for his leave. They waited for his descent.

 

\----------------------------

 

Another flashback. Another memory of his past life. Always waiting to remind him. Drive him down.

_ Sasuke… _

Hisato crumbled in his bed. His hands were shaking feverishly as he clutched at his undone hair. The locks turned to stains of blood in his hands.

He shuddered, a soundless sob shattering through the room. Hisato couldn’t stop the tears running down his cheeks. He lost control over himself, tremors ripping through his numb limbs. Quivering breaths could not fill his lungs.

And so he sunk beneath the surface.

 

\------------------------

 

_ Naruto was seventeen. _

_ He gained a victory in yet another battle. The enemies had been pushed back. He regained the territory that surrounded the Valley of the End. _

_ His adrenaline held on a little longer. The red moon glared ominously down at them. He and Sasuke. The two remaining. _

_ Naruto twisted around to look for his pseudo brother. Sasuke stood atop Madara’s great statue. He had a small smile on his face. Naruto jumped from Hashirama’s head to greet him. _

_ “Thank goodness. Man, I’m-” he broke off, looking closer at Sasuke. _

_ The Uchiha was soaked completely with his own blood. Deep, glancing wounds covered every inch of him, splitting his stomach in two. He coughed roughly, spitting blood, but managed to stay on his shaking knees. Naruto moved his head, denying the sight. _

Not this soon. Not this soon after...

_ Sasuke’s eyes remained as the Eternal Mangekyou and Rinnegan, both bleeding. He opened his mouth, intending to speak. _

_ Naruto cut him off and reached out his arms. But Sasuke shook his head. _

What are you doing?  _ Naruto tried to ask, but his voice failed him. Sasuke limped away, edging to the chasm. _

_ “O-oi. Wait,” Naruto stuttered. He followed his brother. _

_ “Don’t bother. I’m leaving now,” Sasuke said bluntly. Naruto stared, dumbfounded, confused. _

_ “What are you talking about? We need to get you a medic!” he yelled hoarsely. He closed his eyes tightly, and shook his head again. _

_ Something deathly cold poked him between the eyes. He touched the spot and looked at the offender. Sasuke still had that sad little smile. His torn arm was outstretched, two fingers pulling away from Naruto’s forehead. _

_ He felt liquid running down from the touch. _

_ “Mata ashita, Dobe,” Sasuke whispered softly. _

_ Naruto watched, frozen in a daze, as he fell backwards and off Madara’s head. He disappeared to the valley below. To the end. _

_ Naruto rushed forward and stared down. Tears flew from his eyes. His arms still reached out. _

_ “SASUKE!!!” _

 

_ \--------------------------------------------- _

 

Hisato inspected a seal before altering a few runes. He sighed in exhaustion. These seals were far outdated, probably set by his own father.

He moved on to the next, repeating the same observation. Creative, masterful, but worn out.

The next few hours he spent investing Konoha’s security. The Hokage trusted him enough to do so, especially after a long talk in the early hours of morning. A talk about time travel…

He went on from the seals to everything else. The shinobi on guard, he woke with a stern warning in the form of a glare. The cracked walls he mended with a simple earth jutsu. He did a quick patrol of the forest, scavenging for any rogue nin. Once all was clear, he made his way back to the village.

With Kakashi away on a mission, Hisato was left to wander alone. He saw some familiar faces- those of the Konoha 11- and swiftly changed route. He found himself at Ichiraku’s again. It was lunch hour now, and he hadn’t eaten all day.

As Hisato approached the shop, he caught sight of a speedy blur of yellow and bright orange. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the kill-me-now jumpsuit in disdain.  _ Did I really wear that?  _ How appalling. He shook his head and ordered his food, pointing to the pork ramen on the menu card.

From what he saw, Hisato assumed he was around eleven. The Sandaime had mentioned that this morning, too, he realised. There was only one year until graduation, and just a little longer before everything went to the dogs. He had much to do.

Empty bowl aside and money left on the counter, he took to the streets and continued his unconscious inspection. He sighed at how lax the shinobi were, weakened by peace. Their guards were lowered and they hadn’t a care in the world.

His prankster side began to leak in again. A simple jutsu rendered him invisible to the average shinobi. Unnoticed, Hisato shunshinned around to the on-duty chunin, stealing their tools and weapon pouches.

The Hokage received a large delivery by evening, followed by a long line of his disheveled ninja.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Kakashi and Hisato bonding- plus a bit of underlying plot...

Sarutobi Hiruzen had plans for Konoha. For the future of the village.

The story of Kioshi-Uzumaki Hisato’s world was a depressing tale. He had contemplated every deeply-woven event like it held the secrets to the most evil corners of the world. In a way, it did. If nothing was changed, the future would be as dark as it had been in Hisato’s timeline. But by the redhead’s presence alone, things have already begun to shift. Soon, the future would no longer be predictable, and the destiny of every life would not be set in stone.

If Hiruzen would soon be walking into the next day and hour almost blind, then he might as well prepare for it beforehand. So he did. He spent many long days confined to his office, muffled by thoughts. Each thought turned into something more, and therefore, his plans came to being.

One plan, one move, would ensure the safety of the village and other nations. He had subconsciously decided on it when he first heard the long tale of Hisato. But there were a few things he had to achieve first, in order to set the plan in motion.

He wrote a brief outline for a mission. A difficult mission, but a necessary task to complete. It would be the beginning of the plan, and he hoped that this wouldn’t be a mistake. He tied it to the leg of a hawk and watched it fly out of the open window.

Once again, somewhere in the depths of his mind, he knew it would take harrying, painful tries before this mission was a success.

 

* * *

 

Hisato leapt into the air, slicing at invisible enemies with a blade of solid chakra. He placed one foot down, using the other to pivot around and strike again. He covered any openings in his form, and looked out for his blind side by moving to different positions in rapid success. He cast a barrage of blows, cutting at all four sides quickly.

His blade dispersed and he fought with his fists. Imagining enemies, he punched at the ground, using chakra to enhance the hit. The earth ruptured, and the enemies would be sent flying or off-balance.

A few more hours he trained. He mock fought for it all without break, barely panting.

When the secluded training ground was hastily repaired, Hisato made for the village. He fixed up his clothes on the way as best he could, and redid his mussed up hair. He pulled the complete braid out of his face and glanced at the ground.

People gave him weird looks, drawn by his strange appearance. He tried his best to avoid eye contact with anyone. It made him uncomfortable and nervous, wondering what kind of emotions would be in their eyes when he looked into them.

His scarf became disordered at the evening breeze. He caught it before his scars could be made visible, returning it to place just as Kakashi appeared in a swirl of leaves at his side.

Hisato greeted the man with a nod and quick glance. The jounin looked the same as always.

“Have you eaten?” At a shake of his head, Kakashi continued, “I don’t think we’ve been to the barbeque place together yet.” He changed course, taking a left into an empty street. This area of the village was desolate, bordering on the red light district. Hisato hid a wince at the thought of the villainous place.

A quiet walk later, and they were once again in the lively part of the village. He followed Kakashi into the restaurant, for once not busy. They sat opposite each other in a booth, and went through what they always did; point at a dish, let Kakashi do the ordering.

As he ate, Hisato mulled over the mission he received this morning. Kakashi had told him of his own assignment. It was the same as Hisato’s. Once his friend found out it was a joint task, he only frowned, knowing how it would probably go.

He was really dreading it, especially now that he had time to consider every part. Some deity up there must truly hate him. He had no drive to do it. But an order was an order, and Hisato may as well try his best.

After all, the assignment was not easy- he knew, however, that there was some underlying motive the Hokage had in giving it to them. So tomorrow, the two shinobi would get started on it.

Hisato raised his chin, suddenly determined. Like hell he was gonna let his grandfather down.

Hisato met up with Kakashi early the next day. He hid his surprise at the lack of tardiness from the Copy Ninja.

Together they shunshinned to an ordinary building. Kakashi led the way through winding hallways and tall staircases. They came to a faded door. Behind it lay the Jounin Lounge. Hisato was the one to open the door, albeit quite slowly. He steeled himself, stepping into the room.

Inside were only a few people. But it didn’t help for who they were.

Hisato first glanced at Sarutobi Asuma. He never saw the man in his last moments, though Shikamaru once told him about their battle with Hidan and Kakuzu.

Next was Mitarashi Anko. _Quartered like an animal for its meat. Torn apart so suddenly. One moment fighting and laughing, the next, dead and in pieces, blood guzzling out from every opening- all a bundle of glistening bones and splattered flesh. A red puddle akin to a heavy rain. Splattered all through his vision._

Beside her stood Yuuhi Kurenai. She died soon after her friend. _She raged when Anko was slaughtered. She took down a battalion of enemies before dropping dead from exhaustion, wounds all over. In her last moments, she was the fiercest warrior that day, a hero, and an avenger._

Even Shikaku was there, outwardly indifferent and unconcerned. Though Hisato noticed that the jounin Commander seemed to be looking for something or someone. Aside from them, all the other jounin were out. But Hisato was still nervous. Even four were too many people to interact with. He had seen two of them die, after all.

Four pairs of eyes turned towards him and Kakashi. Shikaku had recognition flash briefly over his face before being buried with a blink. The other three looked curious at the newcomer. Kakashi gave a nod of acknowledgement and went further into the room, approaching Asuma seated on the sofa. Hisato felt a horrible wave of panic beginning to bubble up. What should he do? If he could speak, what would he say? _Hello, last time I checked you were dead or brutally murdered in front of me._

Histeria also made way into him. Rapid questions began to breeze around. _What do I do? How should I act? Can they all interpret hand signs?_ He tried to force a smile on his face, but it was straining. He quickly bowed and sat beside Kakashi, focusing instead on his hands.

_Why can’t I just talk?_ He fidgeted with his twitching hands. _Can I just leave? Leave this room, or maybe just leave this life? It’s pointless and short anyways._ He almost grinned at that.

Hisato inwardly growled and shook his head. _No, bad thoughts, bad thoughts._

He zoned out from the conversation taking place outside his troubled mind. He settled in his thoughts, like he was in his own little self-deprecating world. But even that did not spare him from interaction.

A loud bang brought him back out and his personality flung around again. Every tiny noise became louder than it really was. It seemed so much closer, and he involuntarily honed in on it. His eyes twitched from object to object, taking in everything and anything at once. A tap on his leg, which he anticipated, _saw coming,_ still made him flinch back.

Kakashi was looking at him in concern. The other jounin went about their way. Either way, Hisato ignored them, focusing only on the man beside him. He began to slowly calm down. Slowly.

Another noise came then, right next to him. Shikaku asked him a question, but he only saw lips moving.

He was so confused by the sights, sounds, smells. The sofa felt weird and complex beneath. Stupid, stupid.

Everything was overloading, and the panic he felt minutes ago made itself clear.

He tried to slow his rapid breathing. It only made the sound and feeling of it become stabbing and large. He didn’t know what to do.

_Dad,_ he mouthed. As if a dead man would help.

He unconsciously shifted, and became dizzy.

His vision stopped spinning. Fresh air flowed into his face.

He scarcely took in surroundings, already knowing where he was. The Yondaime’s head.

He put his head between his knees and focused on his breathing. In, out. A slow pattern. A calming sequence. The noise zoomed out, quieted. The ground and the air felt normal again. He closed his eyes, feeling his legs steady and body still.

Relief flooded in him. He relaxed his tensed muscles.

This time, he scarcely flinched when a hand touched him.

Kakashi kept his hand on Hisato’s shoulder. He leaned into it, against his friend’s side. His heart fluttered at the bond between them, for reasons no one could ever explain. He rested his head on the other’s shoulder, eyes still closed.

His exhausted body could rest now, in the presence of Kakashi, even for only a little while. He smiled at the peace he finally felt, with his only friend, in the only place that could ever calm he down.

He finally felt at home. The home he had been wishing to return to for years.

 

* * *

 

Their blades met. Hisato released the hold and leapt a safe distance away. Across from him, Kakashi flicked the kunai in his grip.

Hisato used his own to deflect the barrage of blades, shuriken included. He grinned as the fight began to reach its climax. One hand formed seals rapidly.

A blade of wind was released and sent zooming at his opponent. Kakashi slammed his hands down and a wall of earth rose. Hisato sensed Kakashi’s chakra disappear. He turned in time to catch another kunai, this time with his hand forming a blade of chakra. The two were bare inches apart, pressing for dominance. He increased his chakra and it split Kakashi’s kunai in half.

He took advantage of the other’s momentary shock. His first blow shot out at Kakashi’s stomach, making contact and pushing him back a step. He jumped into a series of hits, aiming for vital spots. _Temple, side, knees, armpit._ Kakashi dodged and moved from the defensive and launched his own attacks.

Hisato ducked below a punch and came into the other’s space. He reached both arms for Kakashi’s face. He brought them together in a clap, stunning his opponent and allowing him to hit five more spots in the next split second.

Kakashi coughed, winded, and broke from taijutsu. He sent a fireball at him, forcing him to move away to dodge. He saw a myriad of kunai shoot through the fireball that was too close for his liking. Hisato noticed too late the exploding tags attached, having been partially masked by the smoke.

They unleashed a great explosion, throwing debris from the earth. Left behind was a small crater. When the smoke and dust dispersed, it revealed an empty area. Kakashi, clutching an arm, glanced around wearily for Hisato. His guard was still up.

Hisato attacked from behind and to the left, using Kakashi’s blind spot against him. He held the chakra blade to his neck. He stared up from his crouch, violet eyes glinting. Kakashi didn’t move from his spot, and he noticed his sign of surrender.

Hisato put away the kunai and straightened, smirking in victory.

“You’re very good,” Kakashi admitted, and Hisato saw the slight awe he held. He nodded in acknowledgement.

[ _You are no pushover either._ ] Hisato crossed his arms after, failing to still the shaking.

 

* * *

 

**Kakashi’s POV**

Kakashi hid his surprise at the rare comment. Even though Hisato could speak through his signs instead, he barely ever did. Kakashi suspected it was to hide his hands. As usual, his friend proved to be an anomaly.

He wanted his questions answered. Selfish, he admitted, but he needed to satisfy his curiosity. Why were Hisato’s hands always unsteady? How much was there, to Hisato’s hidden pain? Why was there any to begin with?

He wanted to help the redhead, because they were friends and comrades. He wanted to sustain that bond, and to deepen it. Kakashi realised now, that despite being here for such a short time, Hisato had quickly become his best friend. He felt that he has known the other for his whole life.

A hawk drifted down towards them. Kakashi slipped the small scroll from the bird’s outstretched leg. He gave it a nod, and it flew off again. He skimmed through the contents of the scroll and a smile almost quirked up.

He answered Hisato’s questioning glance. “The Hokage has summoned us for an S-Rank mission. He will be briefing us on the details.”

He noticed that the redhead was bubbling. With excitement. Kakashi finally let the smile appear on his face, underneath the mask. He felt elated somehow, despite the unknown dangers and low success-rate of the missions. Maybe it was because he could spend more time with his friend, get to know him better. He thought it was more because they were going to _fight_ together. That, above all, was what brought shinobi closer. To defeat a perilous enemy and live through it. It was the foundation of a comrades’ bond.

Hisato nodded towards their destination, the _shall we go,_ implied. He stared, enraptured by the redhead’s warm grin, which lit up not only him, but the nature around them. By itself, that pleasant expression lifted Kakashi’s spirits.

 

* * *

 

**Hisato’s POV**

Hisato soaked in the mission briefing. It was finally his chance to start changing the timeline for the better.

The mission was simple, but long and difficult. It entailed a fight, inevitable and challenging. He and Kakashi had to spy on the Akatsuki and garner valuable intel on them. Intel that people would kill for.

Beyond the information will be a deeper research. A research on the different partners within the organisation. Their focus was to be on Hidan and Kakuzu. In Hisato’s words, the strangest pair. Eventually, the Hokage demanded that they eliminate them. Easier said than done.

After all, these were two S-Class shinobi. But Kakashi was not as lazy as in Hisato’s time,  nor was he lacking in his skills. They would be enough of a force to overcome the missing nins.

They took their leave and departed from the village. A steady course was set for the last sightings of Hidan and Kakuzu.

Their search took them all the way to Sangaku no Hakaba, the northernmost region between Oto and Taki. Strenuous travel with little rest kept them for two days and nights.

At the end of the second night, worn and weary, Kakashi and Hisato arrived on the outskirts of Sangaku no Hakaba. The thick lands of forest provided a natural and inconspicuous camp. Hisato halted his run within the branches of the tall canopies. Kakashi stopped alongside him. Whilst Hisato himself wasn’t too out of breath, Kakashi was puffed out. The silverhead all but collapsed against the trunk, leaning his head back and closing his eye.

Hisato watched for a moment, then scanned the surroundings. All clear, of ninjas and wild animals alike.

He turned back to his companion, sending a fond gaze when he noticed the spot that he left beside him. Hisato trekked over and pressed his back touching the cool bark. He slid down and sighed at the relief of finally resting. Kakashi’s shoulder met his, and he looked over to see the jounin drooping with sleep. _Looks like I will be taking the first watch then._

Staying still became too quiet though. He wanted to fidget, or stand up, but the figure using him as a pillow would not let him. But his hands were free, and he wanted noise.

Hisato formed a sign, and two shadow clones popped into existence. They went away to scout and keep watch for him. He initiated a myriad of signs, this time intending to create a barrier. When his hand completed the last sign, the little area sealed off, blocking any sounds made from the outside world. No passerby would notice they were there.

He unsealed a small wooden construction. It was carved with many runes and made of a beautiful red wood. Woodpipes, in other words, and made by Hisato himself. He didn’t remember the last time he had played them. Sometime back before everything grew so bad.

Kakashi shifted at his movements, not really noticing how he went down to rest on Hisato’s laps. Hisato almost stiffened, but managed not to tense. He didn’t want his friend to wake up. If anything, it made it far easier to play his music.

So, for the first time in years, he played out a tune. At first, he was sloppy and rusty. It did not take long to get the hang of it, and a song came to mind. Hisato felt the slight movements beneath his arms and noticed that Kakashi was listening.

The notes came back to him, and he let out his emotions. The song was sad and sombre, sifting into the memories of the horrible times. The war and the bloodshed. Slow, and deep, something that should be played on a violin. The runes he carved manipulated the sounds, creating a range of octaves and vibrations. Notes went from solemn to light, bubbling brighter as the dawn wore on.

He relished in the coruscating sounds, ringing within his ears. His heart beat with it, and a heavy weight was loosened. Still, a great big hole rested there, but this new time was beginning to fill it. Reminiscent sounds of when the world was a whole heap better and he had many friends to see and talk to everyday.

Hisato both wished for and didn’t wish for, the voice he had had. He never could recall the sound of it. Something so loud and boisterous, and yet he could hardly hear it. His voice was a large part of him he had always considered important. Words were the only way he could express his feelings, in a world where the villagers despised his own ‘fake’ humanity. He could not show his true feelings, true face to others, and that voice was the bridge. It connected his thoughts to his precious people. Without his voice, he could not express himself.

And even though part of him so dearly wished for its return, for some reason, he didn’t really want it. To have his voice once again, Hisato would be stealing something from his counterpart. To this time’s Uzumaki Naruto, Hisato could not take his voice. It belonged to one soul alone.

He wanted to cry out in pain, release all his pent up frustration and confusion. But silent tears could never suffice. _Hear me,_ he wanted to say, to tell the skies above. But they could not hear, would never be able to, because there was _nothing to hear._

The music he played made all of his emotions run rampant. Through his notes, he could talk. Why hadn’t he done this before, between all the fights and tension of the war? Hisato could _hear himself._ This was his voice now, when there was no one left to listen.

A rustle in his lap, and he looked down to see Kakashi. No, he was wrong. There _is_ someone to listen. His friend, only friend. Kakashi moved at the silence. They made eye contact, dull violet meeting deep charcoal. Hisato froze at the warm touch on his cheek. Kakashi had reached his gloved hand to his face. Tears pricked at Hisato’s eyes but he rubbed them away roughly with his sleeve.

“I don’t mind,” Kakashi said gently. Hisato allowed himself a grateful smile, and the tears didn’t come again. He mouthed, _arigato._ Kakashi dropped his hand. They stayed like that, staring into each other’s eyes, delving into the dropped walls, as open as they had been since they met. Kakashi’s guilt and self-hate for the loss of his team. Hisato’s grief and emptiness from the death of his friends. Their true selves were revealed to them, naked and clear to see. It was sweet, it was private and personal, this moment of truth between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, cause I love writing that stuff...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have read the original on ff.net or wattpad, the story will change far more from the next chapter onward.

Hisato didn’t even quiver when the scythe impaled his torso. He didn’t recoil when he heaved up blood. He barely perceived the ache residing through his entire being.

Hidan retracted, grinning yet slightly disappointed. “You’re no stranger to pain,” he said with appreciation. Kakashi was watching in a trance. And his eyes… mortified. Hisato hated himself for letting his friend worry. Above all, he loathed Hidan because it was  _ his  _ scythe that caused the reaction.

Hidan was fascinated, engrossed with staring at the wound he inflicted. Hisato did too, glimpsing the smoke rising from the hole. It closed up gradually, leaving only blood in its place.

Hisato spun his face up, gaze freezing Hidan. The other actually startled, and something akin to fright leaked out. Violet became icy and sharp, narrowed like a predator and  _ dangerous. _

He gave in to his reflex and instinct. He had something precious to protect. That drive made way for  _ Shinku. _ The warrior, assassin, ninja,  _ murderer. _ His killer intent extruded from him and drowned the enemy in an ocean of bloodlust and rage.

Hisato disappeared, not even a flash or after-image left behind. He curled around behind Hidan, slicing out with his chakra blade, severing the head. Hidan didn’t laugh for he was too terrified. He was also far from death.

Hisato dismembered him, arms flying far from reach. The Akatsuki member fell apart, sprawling on the ground in pieces. He drew the wind around him, and it blew the limbs together. With his foot, he carved runes into the ground, complex arrays overlapping one another.

He slammed his palms against the massive seal and red rays of light emerged. A great shadow sprouted behind him, forming out of nothing. It towered over him, the silhouette of the Kyuubi no Kitsune.  _ Fuuin!  _ he shouted in his mind. The fox tore forth, pouncing upon Hidan’s stationary form. The man let out one final scream as he disappeared, swallowed by the giant maw of the demon.

The light dispersed. Hisato stood, glancing at Kakashi. His friend was shocked. He marched over. And didn’t go far.

He was thrown through the air and sent twisting and tumbling, slamming against the ground. He slid across the dirt, dust making it hard to breathe. When the world stopped wheeling, Hisato squinted at the newcomer.

_ He finally came.  _ Hisato smirked at Kakuzu, unruffled and looking distinctly annoyed.

“I didn’t expect you to defeat my partner,” he said nonchalantly.

Kakashi was crouching, ready to spring into the fight. “You’re not far behind,” he stated.

With Kakuzu’s attention turned from him, Hisato took advantage. [ _ Five hearts. _ ] He kept the message short and simple. Kakashi’s eyes had flicked over to him briefly. He got the message.

Kakashi initiated a fireball, forcing the man away. Hisato flashed next to his comrade, and signed some more, keeping an eye on Kakuzu. [ _ I’ll get behind him. Two fatal hits, and then regroup. _ ] Kakashi nodded. They moved together. Kakashi charged the man head on. Hisato flashed behind and sprinted from there. He needed to catch Kakuzu off-guard, whilst he was still getting his bearing.

He dearly hoped Kakuzu couldn’t dodge.

The chirp of a thousand birds filled the air. Hisato formed a ball of violet chakra in his hand.  _ Rasengan!  _

“Chidori!”

The attacks met their mark. Kakuzu growled in anger, pressing into action. Hisato escaped the attacks, and the Konoha jounin leapt away. They ran out of range, all senses alert for any jutsu coming their way. Hisato jumped and twisted, a blade of wind flung from his hand at the oncoming earth spear. It sliced the jutsu in half. Hisato landed again. Three hearts to go. Kakuzu must have recognised the danger, as he morphed into his long-range form.

Like massive tentacles of hair, Earth Grudge Fear was initiated. Grey tendrils swayed and swirled, ready to pierce them and steal their hearts.

[ _His hearts form masks on his back. Wind, water, fire and lightning. Which ones we destroyed, I’m not sure._ ] Kakashi looked like he wanted to question how Hisato got the information, but kept silent. [ _Respectively, they allow him to use all the natures._ _Avoid the tendrils, they’ll steal your heart._ ]

Kakuzu took the opportunity to speak. “Copy-nin Kakashi. Your heart will be a nice addition to my collection, to replace the one you stole.” Hisato knew the man was very observant, which means that one of the hearts they stole was a lightning affinity. Kakuzu turned to Hisato. “You must be Shinku, similar build and all. Too bad I already have a wind element.” Then the other heart they killed was either fire or water. Hisato had a feeling it was the water.

Beside him, he noticed Kakashi reached the same conclusion. They spared one glance at each other before separating. They ran around Kakuzu, throwing kunai and shuriken, looking for openings. Kakuzu, as Hisato predicted, caught on to their plan. Then they engaged in a ninjutsu battle.

Hisato saw the two masks remaining on Kakuzu’s shoulders. One spat out a small fireball towards the ground next to him. He recognised the jutsu, and gathered the moisture in the air and soil.  _ Suiton: Suishōha.  _ As the torrent of water exploded into a wave, he sent it towards the fireball, catching it just before it evolved into a storm. It dissipated beneath the strong water.

The wave continued forward and collided into Kakuzu. Kakashi took advantage and sent lightning coursing through the water. Hisato and Kakashi jumped to the bordering trees. They watched the crackling of the water.

Kakuzu emerged unscathed. Except… a mask was gone. Finally entering sage mode, Hisato could find no other chakra. The heart was destroyed and only two remained.

“Is that…” Kakashi started hesitantly, taking in the black spirals around Hisato’s eyes. They formed the same markings that Kurama had. Hisato nodded. [ _ I’m going to finish this in one move. _ ] Kakashi nodded and held back.

Hisato launched from the branch, speeding towards Kakuzu like a bullet. He distracted him, slicing apart a tendril with a clawed hand. The senjutsu of the kitsune is the very embodiment of the characteristics of a fox. Cunning, sneaky, both feline and canine. It was also fast.

He zipped around Kakuzu, and substituted himself with a Kage Bunshin. Blending in with nature, Hisato formed a Rasenshuriken. It’s thundering noise deafened everything in vicinity. As Kakuzu dispersed his clone… it was too late. Hisato leaped up, releasing the Rasenshuriken from his hand. It flew at Kakuzu, sending the man crashing back, leaving a wake of destruction behind.

Hisato released his Sage Mode, standing atop of the water. Kakashi jumped down beside him.

“Where did you learn the Rasengan? How did you add wind chakra to it?” he demanded. Hisato couldn’t blame him. The only one who knew Minato’s technique was Jiraiya.

Hisato shook his head. [ _ I cannot say. _ ] Kakashi huffed in annoyance and if Hisato didn’t know any better, he would have thought the jounin was  _ pouting _ .

“Our mission is complete. Let’s get home as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

 

 

Remembering the war came easy. Something as traumatising as that… it wasn’t hard to forget.

He dreaded the thought of another one less than a decade away; should he fail to stop it.

War was famine and exhaustion. The sun did not exist on such a gory plain. Wake up before dawn; a torturous sleep marred by nightmares. Fight for days on end, no rest between one battle and the next. Constantly standing on weary feet- unable to rest. The coppery tang of metal and blood fused together. Can’t differentiate the two. An enemy with no mercy. A persistent war of underhanded tactics and frightening scenes.

Murder, torture, rape. Nothing was far away. It could be anyone next. The fear and paranoia led to madness, then insanity. Despite the purpose they had, the will to fight… their fire was extinguished quickly, like a child’s prank or messy play. Suicide was common.

Some scars never faded. Hidden pain with never enough time to heal, even with a place of peace and plenty to bandage them up.

Every day was an uphill battle. One treacherous ridge after another, and yet the sky moved further away.

Hisato yearned for that ending, the silence of death. He  _ didn’t want to see them die anymore.  _ He  _ didn’t want to hear them cry and scream and beg.  _ Those anguished sounds, constantly echoing in his mind made him feel hollow and afraid. The feel of the itchy blood and grime on his hands could never wash out. He hated it all, every moment of living. Why couldn’t he leave?  _ Why? _

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato drew a hand over his eyes. He relished the quiet of the library, the complete stillness. It felt like the world was stuck in place the moment that the raucous street morphed into the almost empty maze of shelves. The restricted level was by far the most quiet. Shinobi rarely entered this level, were scarcely accepted and given permission. 

He flitted between the shelves, fingers skimming lightly over the old and worn spines. His fingers came back with dust coating them. He pulled on the wind and it drifted away, leaving them bare and clean once more.

Hisato gazed at the titles, written from the time of the Shodaime. The rows and stacks of books changed from ninjutsu to genjutsu. He turned the corner and his eyes roved from book to book. Most of these were what he already knew of fuuinjutsu. He tilted upwards, and found a fairly old book.  _ Fuuinjutsu: Forbidden and Faded.  _ There was no author printed beneath the title or anywhere on the cover. He briefly flicked to a page, frowning at the almost non-descript writing on the crinkled paper.

He took the book with him to the study area and collapsed into an armchair with ethereal grace. The fireplace was lit, embers burning brightly and flames crackling. He basked in the pleasant sound, turning back to the first page and beginning his long night of reading.

As Hisato carefully deciphered the very advanced characters, his subconscious drifted to thoughts of Kakashi. The jonin had left on a mission five weeks ago, and had yet to return. It wasn’t right to worry, when he knew that the mission was supposed to last almost two months. And yet, an hour never went by when the anxiety gnawed at the edge of his brain.

It was incredibly lonely, between the quick missions Hisato did, and the days spent confined to the village. He had nothing to fill his time except for training and reading. He didn’t dare return to the jonin lounge, afraid of another incident, another breakdown.

He avoided all but the Hokage, a desperate attempt to steer clear of the ones he knew before. He wouldn’t know how to act, what to do. They were people he could no longer consider his own. But even if they didn’t know it, even though Hisato never spared a glance at them, they were his precious people.

That in itself was what drove him to greater lengths, pushed him harder in his training, made him stronger. Hisato all but destroyed himself with every day, with every jutsu and with every move he made. The neglect he had for himself led to something he had never felt before.

Hisato knew it was a long time coming. The sparse times he ate, sleepless months and going beyond his own physical capabilities. It was actually  _ killing  _ him. Just the night before, when he finally summoned the courage to look himself in the mirror of his cold apartment…  _ he couldn’t recognise the person he saw. _

It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be. He felt disgusted and  _ so damn afraid.  _ The hollow, empty face. The dull, emotionless eyes. The skinny frame, completely out of place from the training he did. The no longer tan skin. The lighter hair, tips like ruby fire then lighter and lighter, a faded red and finally, a grey and ghostly white coating the roots. It wasn’t just hunger and exhaustion; it was stress and loneliness, experiences he could faintly remember from his early childhood.

This sickness… it scared him shitless. All this dodging, and no one could notice. The Hokage, unwisely perhaps, never commented, never asked. He wondered if the aged man thought he could push through, that it was only temporary. Hisato guessed his grandfather figure really had gone senile.

These weeks of endless movement, through the days and nights with no stopping and no end, they were _ so difficult.  _ Hisato struggled to move on, running on the desperate need to  _ protect his people.  _ Absolute torture was strained into him, pulling his lifeforce apart, thinning it out. Years ago, when he was still an optimistic, happy-go-lucky idiot, Hisato would never have thought it possible. But it was clear now, and  _ gods-damned obvious.  _ No matter what he tried to deny, he had already accepted the fact.  _ He was dying. _

The book went flying across the room, ploughing into the adjacent wall with a thud that made the walls shudder. With another dull, heavy noise, it landed on the hardwood floor, paper unfurled and creased. The candle nearby went out, hissing. That side of the bare room went dim.

Hisato sighed terribly, long and drawn out. The light beside him blew out next, lost in his breath. What was dim became dark.

He would shriek if he could. Yell and shout his frustrations for everyone in Konoha to hear. But he was left here in the silence and all alone. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything. The desire was there. Desire to do something useful, learn something new. And he couldn't act on it. He wanted to sleep and close his eyes, if only for a moment. But he didn’t want to.

Why should he? There was nothing to see behind shut eyelids and a world beyond. Nothing, except for the dead that chased him away in the first place.

Hisato could barely make out his hands in the darkness. The tremours were still there and clear in his mind.

He lit the candle. In the new light, he ambled across the floor, bending down to retrieve his book. Forbidden and faded indeed. There were chapters of it, chapters on things that would frighten any seasoned shinobi. Seal someone’s heart, their emotions. Seal their  _ humanity.  _ Things that Hisato would never  _ dream  _ of, let alone attempt. But he continued reading, even when the content became too dark and disgusting.

Book firmly in a hand, he rose to his full height once more. The candlelight cast faint glimmers on his pallid skin. The warmth held no place in this cold house, on his body. Shadows, ordinary and stationary, danced along the walls. His own stood ominously. When Hisato moved, so did his shadow, not that anything else would be expected.

He got caught in his image, watching glide around like the dark entity he thought himself as. Driven by a force entirely unknown, he waved one arm up, then the other, his book left abandoned. The shadow on the wall mimicked his fluid movements, ritualistic in the way that it resembled some ancient dance. Spiritual and holy, though such an idea had no place in describing a death god.

Hisato thought it funny. It didn’t make sense, to be the death god. He wanted to be the one reaped, not be the reaper. This life was no longer his, no longer wanted.

To move on… maybe Hisato could see his precious people once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Three more weeks passed all too slowly. To Hisato, it felt like he was a passenger in his body, unable to control his movements. Much like a dream, he thought. Or a nightmare.

Two months since Kakashi left. Hisato was nervous and twitchy. He wanted his friend back. He didn’t want to be alone, or lonely. He was tired and scared. He needed someone to help him.

_ Please come home, Kakashi. I miss you so, so much. _

 

* * *

 

 

When Kakashi arrived, the first thing he wanted to do was go to Hisato. Alas, duty called, so he went as fast as possible to report to the Hokage.

What met him in the office was a forlorn face. He dropped his hastily written report, all four pages, and stepped back. The Sandaime flicked a dreadful look at the paper before gazing- quite deep- at Kakashi.

“Usually I would listen to a verbal and very brief report from you,” the Hokage said, “but there are more pressing matters. More specifically, in regards to your friend.” Kakashi’s heart lurched, and an intense fear lodged itself in his throat.

“And what exactly would that be, sir?” he asked reluctantly.

“Hisato is not in the best shape, nor a stable mindset…” the Sandaime seemed almost hesitant to continue. Kakashi suddenly wanted to leave right away and find the redhead. “He is sick, terribly so. I think… Kakashi, that no one can help him. Except for you,” the Hokage gazed solemnly at his desk, nodding his dismissal.

Kakashi shunshinned directly into Hisato’s apartment. He scanned around frantically, finding nothing and sensing nothing. He was almost ready to tear the place apart when his rib cage was almost crushed by a heavy pressure.

He peered down and froze as his eye met a distinct mop of red and grey hair. He gaped at the bones he could feel through the thin layers of fabric between them- his vest was destroyed in the mission. The hair too, was mismatched and dry.  _ Dead,  _ he thought. It hit him like a fatal blow, registering who it was that clung to him so fiercely.  _ Hisato… _

Kakashi threw his arms around the other, embracing him like no tomorrow. His heart clenched when he heard an odd breathing noise, sharp and swift, yet only air. The redhead was  _ sobbing _ .

It was then that he realised, connected the dots.  _ His  _ friend was terribly ill, just like the Hokage had said. He could see the wraithlike skin of the arms wrapped around him, feel the fragile frame beneath his own hands.  _ His  _ friend was far from well. And now that he truly knew, truly listened, he realised that there was so much more to it.

Kakashi pressed his forehead on top of Hisato’s head, breathing in the scent of his hair. He kissed the crown softly, murmuring soothing words that he hoped Hisato could hear. He drew him closer, and they sunk down heavily, knees striking the ground.

“I won’t let you go. I’m here. I’m here and I’m not leaving,” he whispered, voice tight and aching. The figure in his arms closed in on himself, feeling much smaller.

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato felt so bare, kneeling on the ground and clinging to Kakashi. His sobs, airy and uneven, cracked through his chest. There was relief and there was  _ pain _ . Joy at the one who returned, at easing the loneliness that tore at him. Pain because there was no end and no way out from what currently pushed him to Death’s door.

_ Help me, help me.  _ He’s shattered, deadened, tired. All his energy, all the stamina that was usually endless and powerful, it was the only wall between him and where he wanted to go.  _ Stop it, please. I don’t want it anymore. Take it away. Take  _ me  _ away. _

Kakashi’s words whispered in his ears. The rumbling and vibrating crossed from Kakashi’s chest to his. Soothing and calm, his only pillar in the collapsed cave deep, deep underground.

They stayed like that for a long time, even after Hisato leaned back for a moment to look into Kakashi’s eye.

_ Help me, save me, heal me,  _ he whispered, the words barely discernible, barely there. But Kakashi understood, always did. And that was more than Hisato could ever wish for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shitstorm of the arc arrives!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto
> 
> A/N: Whilst I didn’t have much of the story planned, most of the stuff in this chapter is what I had in mind from before I even began to write.

 

Hisato had to admit. He was embarrassed. Breaking down in front of Kakashi, friend or not, was really,  _ really  _ embarrassing.

They had stayed in that position for almost an hour, the sun finally setting. Emotionally exhausted and weary, Hisato had stood first, pulling Kakashi up with him.

Even a novice could notice the concern Kakashi had written all over him. Hisato wanted to hide himself away, self-conscious from the way Kakashi’s gaze penetrated him. Every corner was uncovered by his friend. From one look alone, Kakashi knew  _ everything  _ that was wrong. It made him happy, knowing that there was someone that could read him so thoroughly.

When Hisato tried to move away, stepping back, Kakashi took his wrist, firm but insistent. He gave up on trying to escape the hold, instead following the other into his bedroom.

The bed was unused and clean, its heavy and warm covers only there for decoration and keeping up appearances. Nevertheless, it sufficed in the cold air of the apartment. Kakashi dropped in and held up the covers for Hisato. Knowing the futility of refusing, he complied.

He was swathed in a familiar circle of arms. His back was pressed against a strong chest, held tightly and lovingly. He covered the limbs with his own. His legs fit against Kakashi’s and he felt a chin atop his head.

Encased with the comfort and love of Kakashi, he could finally close his eyes and sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato found his courage six days later. He was still sore and sick, shouldn’t be moving around if he could help it. But he had a mission to keep and he sure as hell wasn’t going to abandon it.

They entered the Jounin Lounge once more, Hisato sticking close to Kakashi’s side. There were many more people than the last time he was here. It proved to be more of a challenge, seeing so many faces at once, but discreetly clinging to Kakashi’s side helped.

The silver-haired jounin led him to an empty couch. When jounins came up to them, asking questions and greeting Kakashi, Hisato would find something to look at, mostly the floor. The shinobi respected his unspoken needs, keeping conversations brief and running off again.

Conversations aside, it was hard to escape direct contact.

When Shikaku sat beside him on the couch, Hisato stood his ground, pushing down the anxiety and pulling on a strong face. He nodded to the Commander in greeting. Shikaku did the same, then extracted a shogi board from an unknown region.

Hisato hid his disdain and prepared himself. Any excuse he came up with not to play would be neatly ignored or countered. There was no way out of the game.

As expected of the head Nara, Shikaku uncovered Hisato’s silence. Some could mistake it for being shy and socially awkward, but Shikaku understood that he physically could not speak.

They played their game in silence, no one disturbing them. Kakashi, at one point, peaked over Hisato’s shoulder, watching them play for a few minutes.

Hisato recognised the hidden intentions of the Nara. Find out more about the new jounin through gameplay; at the same time observe everything the new jounin did. It was the job of the Commander after all, to know the strengths of his soldiers, their limits and weaknesses too.

Sometimes, though rarely, Shikaku would murmur easy questions. Hisato would respond with quick hand signs, focusing more on the shogi at hand. They were ordinary inquiries. Elemental affinity; best field; best range at fighting. 

He tried to ignore the scrutinising stares and suspicious gazes levelled at him. He was still unknown to many of the shinobi, and any person would find themselves staring curiously at his sickly features, his wraithlike body.

Two hours later, Shikaku ended the game. Hisato was not disgruntled at the loss. Shikaku was miles above others when it came to strategy.

“I haven’t had a good game in a long time. Thank you for that,” Shikaku grinned. Hisato smiled and tugged sheepishly at his scarf. “I didn’t ask, but your name?”

Kakashi looked up from his book and answered for him.

“Uzumaki, eh? You certainly have the reserves of one,” he said. As quick as that, the Jounin Commander was gone.

Hisato and Kakashi spent the entire afternoon there. It was progress.

 

* * *

 

 

_ The camp that the remaining shinobi were located was widespread. It covered two entire valleys, including the cave system beneath. To any outsider, it would seem amazing. But the tenants of the camp knew better. They were the last of the nations. No civilians, no villages remained standing. _

_ One Kage left, though it was clear she was past her prime and there was not much time left. Tsunade made the decisions, sent them to their deaths. She healed them, fought beside them until she dropped. She had the respect of everyone. _

_ Next were the Commanders. Naruto, Shikamaru and Kakashi. Some would call blatant favouritism, but there was no other choice. The camp was largely made up of Konoha’s shinobi anyways. Even then, anyone could see they were the right choice. Unyielding, smart and strong, everything that a commander needed. The hopelessness of fighting never lowered their spirits, a surprising fate for the Nara. _

_ It was sparse to lose a battle. When it was obvious they could not win, they did everything in their power to save as many possible. Compared to what could have been, the casualty rates were far lower. Not as many as the beginning of the war, but still too high to comfort. _

_ In the constant warring, only four thousand of the shinobi alliance remained. Four years since the Fourth Shinobi War began. It seemed a curse, the number four. It wrought death and endless suffering. _

_ “You’re a valuable asset. We need your strength to overcome this war. To do that, you need to push aside your ideals and take lives,” his mother figure had told him. _

_ “No, I refuse. These people are confused. They have hearts and feelings too. Madara’s controlling them and manipulating them. They’re humans with families and homes to return to. I  _ can’t  _ kill them. I refuse.” He remembered his words, futile as they were. _

_ Naruto’s head was pushed firmly into a chest. Tsunade stayed silent for a while, merely comforting him without words. “I understand. But one day, your hand will be forced. One day, there’s gonna be no other way.” _

_ He figured it out soon enough. _

_ Being a commander was hard. Every decision Naruto made sent more to their end. The perished lay atop his shoulders in a ton of guilt. It was his fault. Every death was on him. _

_ Being a commander was hard, but being a Kage was harder. He learned that, not two months later. _

_ Tsunade was newly dead, taking down a legion of zetsu and the humans that Madara had brainwashed. Naruto was chosen by the last two thousand people to be the next Kage, a tribute to his brutal force and great feats as a commander. _

_ His two commanders and Sakura were his greatest supporters. He didn’t know anyone else in the army as well as he did them. _

_ Despite the dangers of losing the Kage, Naruto went on many solo missions, leaving Shikamaru and Kakashi in charge of the drastically smaller camp. Those words spoken what seemed a lifetime ago… he understood them so much more. _

_ No one else should bear the burden. No one but the Kage. _

_ The one that decided everything should be the one to ease their thoughts. _

_ His kill count rose into the thousands. He slayed many before they could get within the territory they held. He protected his warriors like he would his closest family. _

_ The massacres scarred his mind. He became withdrawn, scarcely speaking. They tried to help him but he said he was fine.  _

_ He gained the nickname, Shinigami. Known as that on both sides, and that hurt more than loneliness. To be acknowledged as something so bad by his own people, even meant well and with awe… it hurt. _

_ One last plan, one final wave of destruction. Madara led his army of twenty thousand, mostly zetsu clones. The last of the humans he controlled had been ended by Naruto. _

_ All two thousand were killed in the onslaught. A battle that lasted two weeks, no ceasefire in between. Only he and Sakura were left. Against a thousand clones, they won. _

_ Madara retreated, tail between his legs. He was a coward, an injured and half-dead coward. To bide his time, heal, and then lash out again. _

_ Naruto and Sakura, the last of the nations. It was a hellish nightmare. Running. Hiding. Fighting to survive, not to win. There was no point to it all. _

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato and Kakashi walked alongside each other. Hisato took the lead, steering them through the forests surrounding Konoha. They did not take to the branches and run, just went on, calmly and slowly, letting the time run by without them.

The air was still and bordering on humid, yet pleasant at the same time. It edged on warm but not excessively hot, a break in the heatwave they have been experiencing. There was no wind to cool down even further, nor any rain or storm approaching.

Unconsciously, Hisato had been leading them to a place he used to go, before Konoha was destroyed in his timeline and before the war even began. He never told anyone about it, would disappear for days on end without notifying anyone. The first times he had done so, his team became worried for his safety and reprimanded him for hours when he returned. They had gotten used to it eventually.

A long wall of thick shrubs and thorns outlined the space in front of them. Hisato pushed past the overhanging vines and leaves, Kakashi on his heels. He held them up for his friend and dropped them down when Kakashi entered the gully. The jounin sucked in a sharp breath when he gazed around. Hisato smiled at his reaction, he too turning to admire the landscape.

Created centuries ago by a river, long since dried out, the gully was a quiet and overlooked shelter for nature. At its centre lay a crystalline stream, water gurgling and trickling over rocks. The pebbles beneath were visible in the clear water, shining white and silver. All against the ridges that closed the gully in was greenery. Bush and tumbling ivy, a myriad of flowers blooming against the dark green.

They stood on the bank of pebbles, stretching on either side and disappearing past the gully. The sunlight lit the water and the rocks beside, leaving shady overhangs. Sakura trees were spread throughout, some branches reaching over the stream. They weren’t yet in bloom.

Hisato took Kakashi over to the tree that lay right against the water. The Hatake sat against the trunk and pulled Hisato down with him. The redhead merely smiled and leaned against the other’s chest, hugging his arms around Kakashi’s. The water washed over his bare feet, relaxing and warm.

He closed his eyes and snuggled into his friend. They slept the afternoon away, basking in the beauty of the stream.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a strange pull, a phantom tendril, that led him here. He couldn’t see it, for the pull wasn’t physical. The energy lingered in the air, in the path he took.

The pull settled around him like moth to a flame. But he was the moth, incessantly searching for the phantom, obeying and mimicking its every move. The world was closed around him, morphed to a tunnel. His path.

Maybe he could see the pull. The darkness in his view curled around him like it had on the day he arrived at Konoha. It felt wrong to follow it, for it could only hold misery in the future. But it felt so  _ right.  _ This was what Hisato was supposed to do all along.

Shadows and smoke. Seclusion and silence.

Whispers of the damned followed his footsteps, telling him to die, die to his inevitable fate.

_ You go to your demise. _

Words floated in his head, a steady tune demanding he turn back, or go forward. His head was splitting at the dissolution.

Hisato was on the path onwards. There was no turning back.

And amidst the darkness, there was a glow.

A little glow, dim and small. But Hisato felt the pull grow stronger.

He grabbed at the glow, and his hands closed around what he knew to be a book. Heavy with knowledge and a familiar fit. Old and thick.

It fell open, revealing the ancient writing inside. Writing that, for some reason, Hisato could understand. The runes gave off a demonic aura, and the contents inside was exactly that; hellish.

_ Forbidden and Faded.  _ The book he had returned the night before, still scarred and unnerved. And he had come back to it, unable to resist.

_ You can read the demon’s language. So why don’t you use it?  _ That too, was said in a snarl. Hisato would almost say it belonged to the Bijuu. 

He breathed in deeply and unfroze. He tried to place the book back down, but his hands stopped moving again.  _ They weren’t even shaking. _

_ Fine. Fine, I’ll take it. _

 

* * *

 

 

“Where were you yesterday?” Kakashi all but demanded. He sounded annoyed and ticked off.

Hisato couldn’t bring up a smile. [ _ I was exploring Konoha. _ ] Complete lie, and Kakashi didn’t buy it.

“Sure you were,” the jounin said, but refrained from grabbing out the truth. Hisato thrust open the door, suddenly confident. All eyes turned to him and back off again hastily. Some lingered, perhaps intrigued by him.

Was there something different about him again? Were his eyes changed, his skin paler? His hair, out of its braid and free to cover him like a cloak, held more gray than before, almost matching his skin tone.

Hisato came up to his seat again, crossing his legs beneath him. Kakashi lounged next to him, legs splayed on the table haphazardly. Shikaku was present, and layed sharp eyes on him. Hisato met the perusing gaze, inviting the Commander over. Kakashi watched quietly as the shogi board was brought out and set up between the two.

“You’ve obviously seen the downfall of your village, Uzushio,” Shikaku commented offhandedly. Hisato nodded.  _ He knows. He definitely knows.  _ “You are too young to have seen it yourself, and too young to have earnt your scars there,” he finished, pulling at his own collar for emphasis. Hisato didn’t bother to correct him. Lies wouldn’t work.

“I won’t intrude on your private life if you don’t want me to, Kioshi-san.” Hisato narrowed his violet eyes.  _ You already have.  _ Shikaku avoided the glare and made his move. Hisato examined the board, seeing four directions he could take. He flanked on the right.

[ _ Not everything can be answered, _ ] Hisato signed. Shikaku looked at him for a while, and Hisato knew he was thinking of questions.

“The seal on your scarf. What does it hold?”

He lifted the green fabric into his sight, stared at the almost invisible array.

He made a move on the board, watched as Shikaku’s eyes widened in shock. The game was in his favour.

[ _ It holds my flame. _ ]

The game finished fast, and Hisato launched an onslaught that was impossible to counter. All planned from the first move.

Shikaku laughed and rose from his seat. The other jounin were gazing at the dominated board and Hisato. The room was still. 

“This is a shinobi you should all look up to!”

 

* * *

 

 

In the privacy of his room, Hisato pressed a finger to his scarf and unsealed the book.

The glow was gone from the writing.

Hisato read every symbol. Again... and again... and again...

The seals were burnt into his mind, a permanent aid to destruction.

_ Seal their humanity. Seal their heart. Seal their soul. _

_ Torture them and slay them. Leave no one alive. _

_ Do your duty. As the harbinger of death. As the Shinigami you used to be. As the God you can still be! _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisato is reallyyyyy having a good time rn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, death, LOTS of violence and some depressing thoughts.
> 
> I FINALLYYY got around to completing this chapter. Almost midnight where I am- cause that's when I usually write- so hopefully there aren't any mistakes. If there are... whoops.
> 
> Now, I promise it will get better. Soon. Maybe. Heheheheehheheh...

Why were his hands still? He stared and stared, unable to comprehend, unable to decipher. Yet it was plainly obvious. The tremours refused to resurface.

That was wrong; bad. The persistent tremble was a part of him, perhaps his greatest link to his own self, his past. To see it disappear was an ill omen. To know that memories over the past week were hazy- some even blank, completely missing- was worse.  _ Surely my health isn’t deteriorating this fast? _

Kakashi noticed his troubles, but remained oblivious to the gaps. Hisato was thankful for the slight piece of privacy. He didn’t need to heft another load of problems onto his friend’s shoulders. But the biggest things could never escape the Hatake’s penetrating gaze.

Hands hovered over his, searching. Hisato tilted his head to meet Kakashi’s concerned expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  _ No. I’m not. _

Hisato nodded nonchalantly. Kakashi, like he had been for a few days, looked sceptical at the answer.

Then he was struck with an irresistible urge to go somewhere. Alone. He stood abruptly and left Kakashi behind in the room without a word.

 

* * *

 

 

Kakashi wasn’t dumb. He was far from it, thank you very much.

The last week had been confusing. More so than usual, considering the events of close to a month ago.

Hisato was distant, withdrawn. He would disappear for hours, basically vanish from existence, from Kakashi’s reach. And he gave no answer for it.

_ Where are you going?  _ He so dearly wanted to ask when Hisato cleared from sight once more. But he held back, unable to ask. He couldn’t even think of a single explanation, a theory as to the aloof behaviour.

Some days, like the recent visit to the Jounin Lounge, Hisato’s personality would do a one-eighty. From anti-social, anxious and exhausted, to suddenly confident and fearless. Hisato was fearless in battles, sure. The missions they took together proved that. Around the other Konoha shinobi thought? Not so much.

When Hisato had used Shikaku’s interrogation as a way to surprise the Commander, take advantage of the distractions the questions caused, Kakashi immediately knew something was  _ different _ .

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato took off his sandals, slipping his feet into the loose dirt. He dug his toes and breathed in at the feeling. The next steps brought him closer to the earth. Each stab of a twig on the underside of his feet connected him further with an intoxicating pain. He ambled along in a drunken stupor, not really noticing where he was going.

The albatross of his past did its best to follow, but Hisato’s mind paid it no heed. This is the present, and the past can only hold him hostage. The knowledge of the future also shackled his emotions, but it granted him power. Knowledge of the future is to give one control over their own fate, and that was the power Hisato desperately sought.

He moved more slowly now, honing in on the feel of the earth, of the music that now resonated from his woodpipes. Half-demon, the notes sang. Swift and telling, the forewarning of his onslaught. And as the beat stayed a hasty pace, Hisato’s steps danced along.

Dust from his sliding feet rose in small waves, lingering at his hips.  _ This is my song.  _ And beside the tune came a pounding beat, orchestrated by his bare soles and tapping fingers. It was an ancient tune, as expected of its demonic origins.

The pace increased and his movements became more fluid. An elegant breeze of nature chakra nestled close to him. Hisato pressed out his own violet chakra and it joined the thrumming tempo.

The demon within him responded to the calling song, drawn out more and more. His hair clutched at the breeze, swaying and spiking.

And when the notes came to their slow bridge, Hisato’s feet remained fast. He closed his eyes and came at peace to the melody. When another chakra signature came nearby, watching from the canopy of trees, Hisato did not care. He did not halt in his dance. It was his song, his calling, his link to the demon that was finally resurfacing,

_ I am Shinku. _

Hisato tapped at the ground and the tune came to its climax once more.

_ I am the Shinigami. _

Hisato spun, reeling from the dense cloak of chakra around him.

From a deep violet reminiscent of his eyes, to a raging, fiery vermillion. The red overtook the blue, and the balance was thrown into chaos.

_ Hanyou. Not human. _

The graceful cavort ended with a final beat, hard against the dirt, pain lancing up his heel. Kakashi stayed hidden by the cover of leaves, but his chakra was surprised, still. Hisato stopped and stared, daring him to come out.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Who are you? _

The music had drawn him there. The prance had kept him there. And together, they terrified him.

_ Who are you? _

The crimson chakra,  _ reeking  _ of the Kyuubi and entirely familiar, had frozen him in place, locking his limbs.

_ What happened to Hisato? _

The face that fixed him with a stare was demonic. Warm eyes were suddenly sharp and cold as a kunai. If he bared his teeth, Kakashi was sure the man’s fangs would be elongated beyond what he was used to seeing.

_ Did Hisato die? _

Kakashi didn’t see his friend. No, this was Shinku. The cold-blooded mercenary most knew him to be. The carmine chakra enveloped his senses before vanishing. His eye lingered on the spot where the shinobi last was.

_ I failed, Hisato, Gomen-nasai. _

 

* * *

 

 

It was sudden, this recollection of many days ago. A random memory, a picture in time.

And he had killed them.

The language of demons was instilled into his mind. The words of  _ Forbidden and Faded.  _ The task presented to him by his own foolishness. That damned book wove its way in. There was no way to forget, no way to escape. How could he hope to stop, when he was unaware of himself? When his memory was gone? When his soul was taken over by a demon left behind long ago?

Every blow struck him down. Every life he took drove him down even further.

He had thought it couldn’t get any worse. But it could. It  _ had, _

_ The words that slipped from his lips were not human. They came out in growls, more a rumble of air than an actual sound. His arm outstretched and aimed at the bandit, the man had no way to evade. _

_ The vermillion chakra struck forth like a viper, latching on to its prey with unforgiving, immovable jaws. The seal on the bandit’s head glowed red…. And erupted from the inside. He dropped with a guttural screech, slowly dying out. A light came from beneath the skin, flowing thick and heavy like a torrent of lava. _

_ It splashed from the man’s open mouth, from his eyes, nose and ears, spewing across the grass and catching it alight. The man burned out from the inside. The worst pain anyone could experience. _

_ They tried to run, the other bandits. But there was no running from the Shinigami.  _ He _ chose to reap the souls. There was  _ no loophole _ , no way around it. It was kill or be killed, but what could  _ they _ hope to achieve? _

_ This was a god. A god of ultimate power that they could do nothing against. So they gave in. And they were torn apart from it. _

Hisato emerged from the flashback, disoriented, confused, horrified. It was like watching a clone of himself kill those people, that the one who controlled the body was not him.

And yet he remembered every action he took, all the movements he made. He  _ had  _ done those things, and redemption never seemed so far away as now.

He was sinking. He was drowning in the blood and burning, sizzling flesh. Guilt brought up bile and the meager contents left in his stomach was lurched out onto the hardwood floor.

Hisato rose, clutching his bony sides tightly and straggling forward. He had to do something or go somewhere, far, far away from these memories.

Fate led him to Kakashi. The jounin still slept, tense but quiet.

Hisato shook him gently, stirring the Hatake into awakening.

Bleary-eyed, Kakashi’s eyes found his and he spoke, “What’s the matter?”

Then Hisato lost control over the dam.

He crawled into the bed and under the covers, pressing himself against Kakashi. He rested his head against the man’s chest and shook.

Kakashi was frozen in place, confused. But Hisato didn’t mind it. He just wanted a warm body next to him.

He didn’t mind the silence.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Kakashi. What am I doing? _

His hands moved of their own accord. Seals were alight with red. Arrays all too familiar.

From that book.  _ Forbidden and Faded.  _ He knew it as clear as day.

But what would happen if he used these seals. Continued using them.

Oh, it was fun. Fun to see the last expressions on the foreign genins’ faces. The shock and helplessness of their jounin leader.

Then it was wiped blank.

Clear of anything human.

For they were anything but.

He commanded they run and hide. It was no longer a fight between shinobi.

Feet slipping over the forest like a ghost, searching, hunting. Distant screeching, akin to that of a bird halted mid-call.

No, it was no fight. Whoever would think that is wrong.  _ Very  _ wrong.

This was a hunt. Between a demon and its unwilling prey. Right out of a fairy tale.

A fairy tale turned  _ real.  _ And this time there was no happy ending.

_ Kakashi. _

Blood dripped from his face. Not his own. The liquid formed around his eyes like paint. Something to warn off anyone who saw.

He wasn’t grinning. How could he grin, after what he just did?

_ I’m a monster. _

Shinku crawled back to his apartment. He could not be hungry, or tired, or drained. No, he was shivering with excitement, adrenaline. It made him sick. He felt dirty and tainted.

_ But I’m so happy. _

And a soft… tiny smile appeared.

 

* * *

 

 

Kakashi came before the Hokage, a few hours after Hisato snuck into his house.

He voiced his concerns, and Hiruzen merely shrugged. It struck a chord in him that refused to stop thrumming.

“I trust you to be the voice of reason. Hisato is lucky to have you, Kakashi.”

Kakashi just sighed and left.

He hated this feeling. It reminded him too much of how he had failed. Failed to save Obito, Rin, Sensei, Kushina-san. Everyone else since then. It wrecked him to think that Hisato could be next on this long, long list.

When had everything gone so wrong?

And as soon as that thought appeared, so did his resolve.

He found Hisato quickly, by the memorial stone.

The obelisk stood at the centre of his vision, and his eye immediately roved to familiar names.

Hisato shuffled nervously next to him, and Kakashi breathed in deeply.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Kakashi said, tone blunt. He faced the redhead, and hid the wince when he took in his friend’s appearance.

Worsened. More dull, more otherworldly. And what he could never admit to himself… More feral.

Hisato’s red-grey hair was stark against lightly tanned skin. His eyes were still sharp and cold, like that of a killer, a shinobi. What really took Kakashi by surprise was the happy smile on Hisato’s face. Actually happy, and not as fake as many of the ones he’d personally seen.

Not  _ as  _ fake. It wasn’t real happiness. It was artificial, and created out of feelings that were the complete opposite.

So he stared, and continued to stare as Hisato refused to respond.

Kakashi stepped forward roughly, and tried to make sense of that inhuman expression.

“Wha- why are you this way? Did something happen? Did something change?” His voice rose, frustration getting the best of him. “I know you won’t answer. I-”

Hisato didn’t shift under his heavy gaze. His smile didn’t change.

Kakashi growled. “Please.  _ Please tell me.  _ After all this time, don’t you trust me?”

There it was. A crack. A fissure in Hisato’s mask.

But the Uzumaki would never budge. For he was too stubborn, too proud, and too guilty.

Then his hands came up and signed. [ _ I’m fine. _ ]

To Kakashi though, that message was entirely different. There was no way to fake the true words beneath the lie,

_ Please help. _

 

* * *

 

 

This seal was his favourite by far.

He had always wanted to trap people in dreams. Hurt them from within. And make that pain  _ come to life. _

The specimen in front of him, cowering and unable to move. Trapped in the air. Eyes squeezed shut. Whimpering and pleading.

Shinku made him a lovely nightmare, woven from his own past. Captured. Unable to escape.

Slice; stab; slice; stab.

Each move rewarded with a spray of blood. Pain amplified ten-fold. The worst of any physical pain.

And outside of that dream was a pond of blood. Because those wounds were real. And once that person woke up, any shred of hope they had- it was a genjutsu, not real- would be crushed.  _ That,  _ to Shinku, was true pain. The pain of the optimistic, naive and foolish.

Why bother to hope in such a cruel world? Why bother, when all of your dreams will come crashing down and you’ll realise that there really  _ is  _ no point. No point to living, or struggling to survive.

The man awoke, and Shinku savoured his last moments. To him, it was art. Beauty.

_ What is the point? _

He moved on to the next experiment. Same seal. But more reach. More victims.

They were an unsuspecting group. Merchants cruising along, one tight-knit family with no worries apart from the success of their business.

And they died together. The one mercy that Shinku still had in him to give.

_ Why should I bother? _

If red was his favourite colour then green would be a close second. If striking wounds was his favourite to inflict then poison wasn’t far behind.

The poor, poor animals couldn’t help themselves from the green smoke surrounding them, invading their insides. They couldn’t even make a sound, have one moment of relief given to them.

They suffocated and dropped motionless.

_ Because it’s fun. _

Grander scales. Shinku loved to kill, satiate his immense lust for blood and death.

The forests of Konoha had never been so loud. Or quiet.

The forests of Konoha had never been so full- of blood and dead things. Or empty- is there anyone left to fill it?

Shinku crossed the bridge in his mind. Not that it would remain for long anyways. Hisato could  _ never  _ come back. He wouldn’t allow it.

_ It  _ is  _ fun. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of ehemmmmmmmm 'Possesion Arc' as we might call it.

_ Peace is a futile ideal. Strong men give way to peace. Peace gives way to weak men. Weak men lead to war. Such is the world we wander. _

Shinku usually savoured silence. Hisato  _ lived  _ in silence, and… Shinku should too.

But there was a darker side to it. Other than the comfort of being away from the pain.

It was being  _ in  _ the pain. The thoughts that scurried around in a constant buzz, undeterred by any background noise, anything that was remotely  _ real.  _ His buried self lived in silence, but… he had always been afraid of it.

Silence was lonely. Infinitely lonely; endless. He couldn’t comprehend how he had spent a lifetime in it, surrounded by the abyss, so deep in there was no way out. So deep in that he couldn’t feel the comfort of the outside. He would try to reach out, walk forward, only to be drowned in more quiet.

It had become too suffocating in that place. Shinku found himself wishing for a way out… for noise. He wished for noise to overcome the silence. He wished for light, too. Something not so dark.

He clawed, desperate to escape the void, to climb the endless precipices and see the sun out again. Shinku scrambled with all his might, every fall leaving no dent in his resolve.

He was not the only one searching for noise. From within himself he felt it; his long buried self wakening. Hisato wanted back. And Hisato  _ always  _ got what he wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

Kakashi was incredibly selfish and cowardly. But he wanted to get away, he wanted to vent.

He couldn’t get that with Hisato right now. How could you vent about your frustrations directly to the source? That made no sense- at least to him.

A week out of Konoha to simply relax and calm down.

And to worry.

And to fret.

Because Hisato wasn’t Hisato, and that meant anything could happen.

Someone might die, even Hisato himself. Something disastrous was inevitable when the redhead was left to his own devices for too long.

The week came and went too quickly, despite his thoughts. His mind was entirely occupied by Hisato and his frustrations had only grown. He was forced to cease his efforts. The best way forward was to help Hisato.

He didn’t expect that, on the way back to Konoha, thoroughly exhausted but refreshed at the same time… he didn’t expect that…

Kakashi crashed to a halt, blinded by the sight before him to land without a stumble.

Mist rose, thick and heavy. In any other circumstance, the Hatake would pin it on a Kiri shinobi. What his Sharingan saw begged to differ.

A glint of red, demonic red, shone through him. Two beams, their source a person. With a familiar bony frame, familiar long hair waving out behind him.  _ Hisato. _

The air reverberated with a growl, no pitch and no sound to it. Just a vibration that Kakashi felt everywhere. As part of the earth, part of the figure, the mist, himself. The killer intent grabbed his voice and he couldn’t even breathe.

The moment that followed would have been far more terrifying if Hisato possessed a voice. He could imagine a laugh- warped and mad- escaping those thin, colourless lips. He could imagine a taunting voice- deep and insane- mocking him.

What’s really there though…

Hisato- Shinku- became clear through the thinning mist. Kakashi unwillingly shrank in on himself. He felt fear for the first time in years.

The tilted head and lilt to his step made Hisato seem sideways, upside down- fitting for his mental state. Red eyes wide with bloodlust. The wide grin adorning his face occupied Kakashi’s entire view, made him feel dizzy and nauseous. His gaunt face was bloodied up. 

Not his own blood.

Dripping from his lips, from above his eyes. The laugh he heard in his head echoed and sounded  _ very  _ real. Like Hisato was projecting it himself.

“Hisato,” Kakashi whispered airily.

The claws that came rushing for his face froze, and the Hatake took initiative. He leaped out of reach. A game of tag began.

Crimson chakra flared around Hisato in a fox-shaped bubble.  _ He’s Shinku. _

Kakashi gathered his thoughts, substituting with a branch just in time. He glanced back and saw Shinku with his arm thrown back, and the branch catching alight.

_ But he responds to my voice. _

“Hisato,” he said again, louder now.

He threw his elbow up in front of his face, pain blooming. Shinku’s face appeared right up to his. A metallic breath clouded his. Liquid slipped down his arm, irritating his elbow.

He punched with his good arm, unsurprised when Shinku sent him flying into the trunk of a tree. The breath was knocked out of him. He wheezed and collided with the ground, momentarily unable to move. Shinku slammed down just as he escaped.

“ _ Hisato,”  _ he called more urgently, still breathless. Shinku shuddered and twitched. He moved like a robot, haltingly and slow. Then he attacked again, swift and sure once more.

Kakashi cursed as a hand raked his face. Every bit of training he’d ever done came in to play just to survive. All the while he chanted his friend’s name.

Shinku slowed, but was no less dangerous. Deserving of an S-Rank, and possibly one of the most dangerous shinobi in history. A true assassin.

Kakashi darted out and gripped Shinku’s wrists, calling his true name louder. The other flinched, eyes widening and flashing violet. Kakashi pushed himself up, getting closer to Shinku, begging him to wake up, to come to his senses.

“Please  _ please,  _ wake up!”

Shinku was stubborn, like his counterpart. He bared his teeth and clawed his way out of Kakashi’s hands. The Hatake scrambled to regain his balance, near missing a swipe to his temple.

The situation was desperate. Kakashi was losing his foothold. They had been at it for such a short time. But if this went on, Shinku would kill him.

He didn’t want to use it. The jutsu was only meant for enemies, targets he needed to kill. It might be Shinku in charge of that body, but it was still Hisato’s.

A few hand signs and then the sound of a thousand birds chirping filled the mist. The buzzing penetrated the thickness of the air. High-pitched and screaming, and pulling memories in front of him, replayed over and over. Blood dripped down a fair face, his name on her tongue.

Kakashi dares to look to his hand. Through a chest completely, obscured by flesh and skin. He held the other up by their shoulder, and retracted his arm, chidori dying out. The battlefield was left in darkness.

The two dropped down and Kakashi noticed something knew. His aim was turned. From the abdomen like he intended, right into the chest. He felt the grip on his own wrist loosen, and Hisato’s hand dropped down. There were tears in the Uzumaki’s eyes, and his lips moved in a familiar pattern.  _ Kakashi. _

Those beautiful violet eyes stayed with him until he finally dropped.

 

* * *

 

 

And they haunted him into awakening.

Rin and Hisato occupied his mind. The light and chirping of the chidori. The blood and flesh beneath his clenched fingers. Every victim. Every death. He woke with red coating his hands and a painful cry on his lips.

Kakashi lurched upright, disoriented and dizzy. He found himself at his sink, like many nights previous. Water poured over his bare hands, turning red as every molecule dripped off, running down the drain. The blood on his hands refused to wash of, stubborn and sticky. As tears ran down his cheeks, he thought to himself.  _ How pitiful. You murderer. Friend killer. _

And where was Hisato? Was he dead? Was he not immortal enough as to survive a hole in his chest? Kakashi’s eyes filled faster with despair and agony. It was a curse, a curse to lose everyone he got close to. It made him want to distance himself from his small group of friends even further.

A clutter breached into his thoughts, and the light came on. The running water was switched off and Kakashi looked down at his dirty hands. He could see Hisato mouth:  _ they are clean. _

The towel wrapped closer around his hands, and Hisato rubbed at them carefully. Hisato dried his hands with a motherly sort of gentleness, patient and soft.

Kakashi stood frozen, watching Hisato work in a trance. From his view, the towel was stained crimson as well, and he was tempted to rip it out of the redhead’s grip; tempted to throw it into the sink and clean it as well.

He was scared of Hisato. Scared his best friend would run away from him, the blood on his hands. But Kakashi stared into those eyes, those sharp violet eyes, and found only love. The love he had come to expect in them until a few weeks ago.

Why was Hisato still here, when Kakashi had done nothing to help him? He stood by and let whatever it was take over Hisato. Everything that had happened since then was because of him. It was his fault. All his fault, his fault his fault his fault.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out through harsh breathing. Hisato smiled at him, brought him closer. The Uzumaki shook his head earnestly, and Kakashi felt the need to repeat his words. It  _ was  _ his fault, right? Hisato was just trying to be nice, surely.

There was no lie, and Hisato showed it clearly.

_ Not your fault,  _ he mouthed slowly.

“How? How is it not my fault?” Kakashi said, voice louder, shaking. “I-  _ I  _ did this to you!” He gestured to the general area of Hisato. The ill body, weak shoulders, gaunt face. “I should have hel- helped. I should have done  _ something.  _ At least  _ something. _

_More than enough,_ he replied. With that, Hisato took away the towel, dumping it onto the counter. He grasped Kakashi’s hands in his own, skin meeting skin, no walls between them. Hisato caressed his palms, and Kakashi felt like liquid. He had to admit he was touch-starved. Anything would help, any touch.

He felt clumsy fingers travel up his arms, light taps pressed against his skin, like silken feathers. Kakashi shuddered, and he suspected the surprise he felt was showing on his face. Hisato made his way to his face, placing a palm on his cheek, the other hand touching his neck.

_ Kakashi,  _ Hisato’s movement caught his attention.  _ Clean.  _ Kakashi’s brows furrowed.

“I-I’m not clean. My hands are-”

A hand closed over his mouth, and Hisato stood up higher.

_ Say it,  _ Kakashi read. He didn’t understand, and he didn’t want to lie. His hands were dirty,  _ he  _ was dirty.

_ These hands. Clean. A warrior’s. Clean. Protection for village. _

Kakashi flinched. No one has ever said that. He has killed, he has drawn blood. But, maybe,  _ maybe  _ he has done something for his village. He found himself losing his grip. The blood on his own hands seemed to be floating away. Retracting into his skin.

“My hands-  _ I…  _ am clean,” Kakashi relented. Hisato’s smile widened, and the redhead’s hands moved again, curling around his back, stroking up and down. Kakashi closed his eyes for a moment.  _ Hisato, you…  _

_ Kakashi. Strong,  _ Hisato mouthed, somehow firm.

_ If I was strong they wouldn’t be  _ dead.  _ Because of  _ me. He shifted in denial, but Hisato kept on touching his back, comforting him, making his relaxed. He felt safe under Hisato’s constructions.

_ Strong,  _ Hisato reiterated.

“They’re  _ dead.  _ How am I strong if  _ I couldn’t save them? _ ” Kakashi argued. He couldn’t bring himself to tense as Hisato’s fingers massaged his shoulders.

_ Saved me. _

After doing nothing for so long, sure. But there was only honesty in the way Hisato moved, in the way he touched him, all caring and gentle and precise.

“Strong, then. I am strong,” he said, still shaking and unsure. His voice was becoming more certain, with every word Hisato mouthed.

Then the redhead pulled back and took him in, gaze penetrating and leaving no edge untouched. His eyes crinkled, the equivalent of his own signature eye-smile.

_ Gorgeous. _

Kakashi scrunched his face in confusion. He was a monster. He killed and stole and caused trouble for everyone. What part of him was  _ gorgeous? _

Hisato placed his hands on his chest, and Kakashi could feel them searching and exploring through the thin fabric. Kakashi melted in his grip, feeling the redhead come even  _ closer. _

_ Beautiful. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Enchanting. _

Kakashi sobbed once more. How could he not, when he had gone a whole life without hearing those words? Oh, how he had longed to hear them, longed to have someone love him this much, care for him this much.

“I am gorgeous. And beautiful. And… you are too, Hisato.”

He chuckled at the look that mirrored his own. Hisato settled down flat on his feet again, and pushed his head into Kakashi’s chest. He felt the redhead nuzzle him, and Kakashi imagined he would be purring if he had a voice.

“You are just like a cat, you know,” he stated.

A huff of breath pressed against his shirt. He himself smiled, wide and not a mask. He returned the embrace, soaking in the warmth of his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone else relate to that last scene? I think it would be the best feeling in the world, to have those things said to you so honestly. In a recent maths lesson, our amazing teacher Mx Le, got us to sit in a circle. We wrote words to describe ourselves on a piece of paper, then passed them around in the circle. Classmates wrote down additions to the page, and seeing so many positive things said about me in such an open classroom made me cry. I felt so light and unburdened because of it. I think all teachers should do this every so often. Cheers to Mx Le for being so amazing of course XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to recovery, and also the road to a time-skip

Kakashi joined Hisato in bed after the day was done. The two had quickly recovered from the morning’s bout of emotions.

Hisato sat at the foot of the bed, legs tucked in. His scarf lay tangled in his lap, the seal holding  _ Forbidden and Faded _ facing up. The man was twisting his hair back, tying it once more into a loose braid. The hold of Shinku was gone, and Kakashi saw Hisato’s resent for everything related to Shinku in each careful plait in his dull red hair.

Kakashi dropped down beside him, back to the covers and forelegs falling over the edge. He watched Hisato’s braiding, and then as the redhead swiped a palm over the book’s seal. The tattered cover appeared without a flash. It was without the glow Kakashi had come to associate it with, the demonic coat that used to adorn the runes.

“What are you doing?”

Kakashi’s question went unanswered, and he jerked as a flame lit the room orange. Pops and cracks filled his ears.  _ Forbidden and Faded  _ really  _ did  _ fade. The pages blackened and dissolved, and the remains disappeared before they reached the floor.  _ Back into the seal,  _ he realised. Hisato was erasing the past, Kakashi was sure.

But when he turned to his friend, the words mouthed were different to his own thoughts.  _ Erasing the evidence. _

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato clutched at his head, trying to breathe in. Pretending to be fine was hard. Too hard to go on.

He lay in his secluded apartment, letting the dam break. Release the water then shut it for another day. Act fine and healthy when he is not. Only let the agony be shown when no one is around.

Hisato faced every task with a facade of alacrity. He tried to smile and wave to the civilians on the streets. He only received scorn in return.  _ What am I kidding? They probably think I’m a second Kyuubi come to haunt them.  _ He twirled his hair, same as the Uzumaki, and also bearing semblance to the previous Jinchuuriki. The villagers don’t know about Kushina’s Jinchuuriki status, but they would have an inkling of what the Kyuubi looks like. Fiery and the harbinger of blood. Just like him.

The clatter from the kitchen wrenched him from his misery. Hisato schooled his face into nonchalance, rubbing the tears away. Water covered him briefly, washing out his tear-tracks as best as possible.

He emerged from his room, already sensing Kakashi’s chakra. A warm scent wafted through the stagnant air. He cringed from it, bile skirting up his chest. Hisato saw Kakashi hovering over a pot. He flanked Kakashi, looking down into the broth.

Kakashi kept quiet, focusing on serving the broth into bowls. He set up the table, steam rising from the bowls he placed.

Hisato grudgingly sank into a chair. Kakashi dismissed his questioning gaze, raising a spoon and swirling around the broth. Hisato stared at the bowl, translucent liquid looking back at him. It struck him that broth was easy to digest after heaving out the contents of his stomach. But how could Kakashi know? Kakashi smiled up at him with carefully concealed concern.

“Eat. You’ll feel better,” he said. Hisato raised a brow at the threatening tone. He didn’t pick up the spoon. “It’s not poisoned.” Blunt words. Hisato was stubborn, however, not wanting to vomit again. He turned away, pouting. Then Kakashi was at his side, kneeling on the floor. Hisato dared to look back and recoiled, dodging the spoon of food at his mouth.

“Eat you stubborn bastard,” Kakashi repeated dangerously. The jonin sighed. “I promise you can eat it.” He hated to admit, but the broth was actually decent. He swallowed, feeling it settle in his empty stomach. It was… pleasant. But the remnants of his nightmare still refused to cease their haunt.

They packed away the dishes a while later. Hisato was hesitant to do much. Kakashi face-palmed many times in fond exasperation. The apartment was warmer than it had ever been.

Another night was spent together.

* * *

 

 

Kakashi’s nagging failed to deter Hisato from demanding a mission from the Hokage. Hisato escaped before the other resorted to more forceful means.

The Hokage sighed in defeat, and Hisato pounced at the next mission the aged man held up. Trying to give him a B-Rank, how dare they. Hisato was firm in his decision. He needed to take down their enemies, and this was the means to do it. Damn his health. The village came first.

Kakashi looked over Hisato’s shoulder, reading along with him. The jonin frowned and turned to the Hokage, “An S-Rank? Should you really be giving us this when Hisato needs to rest?” The Sandaime agreed, of course, but Hisato was set on going through with it and nothing could stop him.

The mission was to take down another pair of the Akatsuki; Sasori and Deidara. It was a request Hisato had put in at the end of the battle with Hidan and Kakuzu.

Hiruzen furrowed his brows, pressing the bridge of his nose, “More details are in the file.” Hisato skimmed through the pages; sightings, bingo book entries, background. “You may leave whenever you desire. Dismissed.”

Hisato grabbed Kakashi’s arm, ignoring the brief surprise and flashing out of the office.

 

* * *

 

 

The assignment was longer than it should have been.

In between bouts of sickness and violent coughs, the pair travelled to Taki. The exhaustion that the illness wreaked upon him forced them to stop more often than not. Kakashi took to hunting the wildlife, giving Hisato what he needed. The ration bars weren’t enough to keep him going. Kakashi would always suggest they turn back, cease the mission, but Hisato waved him off.

His skin was no longer ghostly, the outdoors feeding it. He kept himself going, annoyed at the slow pace in which they travelled. He didn’t complain or stop until he deemed it absolutely necessary. Kakashi was pissed at this but didn’t say anything. Hisato guessed it would be hypocritical for the Hatake to do so.

When it came to battle, Hisato was first to engage. It was brutally swift. Catching them off surprise, Hisato managed to drive his chakra blade clear through Deidara’s head. After that, he and Kakashi worked together to bring down Sasori. Kakashi narrowly escaped a fatal strike. They smashed Sasori to smithereens.

Now it was the journey home, still three days out from Konoha at the pace they were travelling. He was lagging behind a few branches when a figure emerged from the bough of the tree, cloaked in red clouds. He halted, and dropped to the same level. Kakashi came back, standing rigid.

Itachi stayed silent. Hisato sighed in relief. Any other shinobi and there would be a fight on hand.

“What do you want, Itachi?” Kakashi broke the quiet, sharp and demanding. Itachi swayed his red eyes to him, then back to Hisato. Hisato knew it foolish to stare right into Sharingan, especially Itachi’s, but did so anyways. It showed his trust. Those eyes shifted down, taking in his frame.

“You do not look well,” he stated, though the question was implied. Kakashi relaxed at the familiar and calm tone. He did not mean to fight.

[ _ I have not been myself, _ ] Hisato signed. Though he could be wrong. Who was he to say that Shinku was not, in fact, a part of him. [ _ What brings you here? _ ]

“I sensed you were in the area and came to see you, that is all,” Itachi said. Hisato shook his head in exasperation.

They found themselves seated around a campfire when the sun set.

[ _ Surely that’s not all? _ ] Hisato finally asked.

“You have been erasing Akatsuki,” Itachi conceded. Hisato nodded and noticed Kakashi’s weary gaze.

[ _ It is about time someone did. They shouldn’t be allowed to go on. _ ] He paused, thinking for a moment. [ _ Is there any word? Pein hasn’t started the hunt early, has he? _ ]

Itachi looked down then. “No. The targets of the nins you defeated are now an extra task for others.”

“Who are these targets?” Kakashi interred.

“The Akatsuki’s goal is to capture the Jinchuuriki and extract the Bijuu,” the Uchiha explained. He named the targets of Kakuzu and Hidan, then Sasori and Deidara. He directed a question at Hisato, “You mentioned once, that all is not as it seemed within the organisation. What do you mean?”

Hisato tilted his head. Answering would change things. No one else knew of Madara. [ _ There is a shinobi within the Akatsuki… He is long dead, and if revived to his full power… the resulting consequences would be war. _ ]

“Who could be so strong?” Kakashi asked. Hisato inscribed the name into the dirt.  _ Uchiha Madara.  _ There was a sharp intake of breath beside him, and a sound of disbelief.

“Madara is alive,” Itachi said, the questioning tone almost made present. Hisato frowned, wondering how to continue.

[ _ The one with the mask. He is the one behind the Nine-Tails Attack, and also Madara’s experiment, brainwashed and made a weapon. Madara left behind his dreams and plans to Tobi. _ ]

“And he is also an Uchiha.” Hisato remembered that Itachi had sought Tobi’s help to massacre their clan.

“You know who Tobi really is,” Kakashi said. Hisato stiffened. That was one piece of information he would not divulge. Kakashi would not be able to take it. The knowledge that the friend he had spent a lifetime grieving over had turned into, well… Hisato knew the guilt plaguing his friend would increase twofold.

[ _ I do, but I shall not say. _ ] 

Itachi rose from the ground, distracting Kakashi from asking again. Hisato stayed seated, facing away. It would be best for Kakashi not to know., he firmly decided.

“I must leave. It was good to see you again, Hisato, Taichou,” the Uchiha said. They didn’t have time to respond before Itachi morphed into crows. Hisato leaned back, the mask falling off, exhaustion forcing him down.

Kakashi was behind him in an instant, easing him slowly to the ground. He focused on calming his breathing, closing his eyes and letting Kakashi’s presence curl around his awareness.

“I won’t ask. If you ever need to tell someone, I’m here to listen,” Kakashi’s voice sounded far-off, somewhere above him. He smiled.  _ Baka, I can’t tell you anytime soon. I’m protecting you,  _ he thought, everything fading away to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Many months later, many missions and deaths passing by in a fit of hazy memories, Hisato was no longer exhausted, no longer stressed. There was a whole lifetime ahead, many years to live in peace.

The Akatsuki were taken down. Without their leaders, the remaining few members had nothing to accomplish. The Gedo Mazo was forever destroyed. Hisato had sealed Orochimaru away into a stone tablet. Not exactly the greatest object to do so, but it was effective. That tablet now lay far beneath the ground, hidden away from anyone who tried to look. Kabuto was dead. Hisato didn’t regret that action.

The Akatsuki were foiled at every point. Those who made the greatest impacts on Hisato’s past life were killed or defeated. For now, there was peace in the loosest term. The other Hidden Villages still had rocky relationships, though Hisato was determined to stabilise them later on.

Hisato overcame his sickness. Kakashi was his only pillar, helping him through everything, helping him get better. It became easier to interact with others, despite him still avoiding it as often as necessary. He gained a few acquaintances, some bordering on friendship. His reputation with many S-Rank mission successes ascertained the trust of most shinobi in the village.

He suspected the Hokage was hiding some things behind his back. Asking about them can come another time. For now, graduation was fast approaching. Maybe, Hisato wondered, he can finally confront his past and see his old friends again.

But nothing came without repercussions, and peace could only last so long. Hisato knew that well. He only hoped they wouldn’t strike too strong and bring down everything he worked so hard to achieve.

_ It was foolish. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that late heheheh...  
> Anyways, I'm publishing this at 6pm where I am and probably a far different time for most of you. I wanttt to post at a time when most people are active but that would be 4am for me and that's when I sleep so nope, just throwing it at you right now, have fun, enjoy, stay tuned.  
> PS. Author loves kudos and comments. PLZ PLZ PLZ give me some motivation!!!!!!! Love you all lots <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first tragedy of many, and one Hisato did not see coming...

Hisato finished his brief discussion with the Hokage by nightfall. He had outlined the events that would have come, and how Hisato had prevented them from ever occurring; how he had stopped the possibilities of the bloodshed he still saw in his dreams and waking moments. Stop violence with violence. Kill a few to save a million, and more than that.

There was no need to worry about tonight’s event. Young Naruto had passed his Graduation Exam, and the Scroll of Sealing will remain safe for the entirety of the night.

Through his observations via the Sandaime’s crystal ball, Hisato discovered minor differences between him and his counterpart. Naruto was slightly more focused, and skilled. He remained loud and obnoxious, and so his behaviour was hard to make out. Naruto was like and unlike, same and not same. An unpredictable goofball, shunned by his village, but with an underlying control Hisato never had. And maybe it was because he came back to the past. Maybe it was because he had obliterated the known enemy that had caused so much pain before. Maybe his previous assumptions were wrong and he was in an entirely different reality. A Kakashi that wasn’t tardy, and small differences in character for many of the other people he used to know.

Hisato leaned back on the couch, reminiscing his own exam, his failure. The Forbidden Scroll stolen, almost handed away to a conspirator of Orochimaru. And here the world was better; no Orochimaru, no traitor. No failure, no incident. Naruto would not be stealing anything tonight.

With the privacy seals down and deactivated, the ANBU guard resumed their positions in the shadows of the office. One spot was missing. Hisato saw the Hokage stiffen. He knows too. 

Summoned by thought, another ANBU shunshinned within the room, but did not take his place at the empty corner. Instead, the masked ninja bowed before the Hokage.

“What is it?” the Sandaime demanded. Hisato watched the ANBU rise up and looked closer at the abnormalities. The man was twitching, and blood trickled from his side. Not a deep wound, but a clear sign of a fight.

“The Scroll, sir. The Scroll of Sealing was taken,” he reported. Hisato narrowed his eyes and tugged his scarf tighter. It couldn’t be happening. Who was there to take the scroll on  _ this  _ night?  There was no reason to, none because  _ Orochimaru is gone! Edo Tensei is on that scroll, dammit! _

“A small child, no more than eight. They managed to escape with the scroll, and can handle a short blade well,” the man added. The Hokage nodded and dismissed him to heal. Sarutobi then turned to Hisato, who noted the confusion in the age-weary eyes.

“You know what to do.”

Hisato fired off a quick salute, then let his chakra swirl. He flashed from sight. Bright, dark, then bright again.

Eyes quickly adjusting to the dim, he scanned around for the chakra signature he had felt, and found it directly ahead of his path. A small cloaked silhouette, with a massive scroll hoisted on their back. The disguise didn’t do much to make the child inconspicuous, what with a scroll the size of them.

Hisato trailed the child through the forest, heading northwest. He recognised the desperation in their movements, the fear and the determination set in those little legs. Hisato went slowly, saving his energy and becoming thoroughly bored. Good with a blade they might be, but the child was slow, and the scroll held them down even further.

Day took over night, miles of distance already covered. The child was tiring, but not stopping. No rest, no sleep, not even a brief break for food or water. Hisato wondered what could drive a child to go so far. Had they been hired? Kidnapped? Forced to work with no other choice? Trapped? Or were they a mere willing servant?

The child needed to rest. Hisato ignored the desire to continue trailing them from a distance He bound forward, crossing the short distance between them. Finally noticing him, the child also stopped.

“Were you following me? Who are you!?” They shouted, spinning around to face him. Hisato raised his arms in a peace gesture. The child didn’t relax, waiting impatiently for an answer. Hisato did not oblige him, taking a seat on the dry grass and ferns. He motioned for the kid to sit down as well, making sure to look harmless.

Grudgingly, the child sat down. Hisato tapped his head, and the boy removed his hood, revealing a young, scowling face. Brown hair, hazel eyes. Plain and ordinary. Hisato continued to stare at him, trying to convey a message in his eyes. The boy looked lost at his silence.

“Right,” he finally spoke, “give your name before asking for another’s. Well, I am Fuyu. You?”

Hisato dragged his hand across his scarf, then closed a fist around his neck like he was strangling himself. It obviously didn’t work, if the boy’s- Fuyu’s- confused expression was anything to go by. He sighed in defeat. Hoping it wouldn’t scare the boy, Hisato ran through seals before slamming his palm against the ground.  _ Kuchiyose no Jutsu! _

When the smoke cleared away, it revealed a gleaming coat of snow. A fox sat there, grooming a paw, and looking like she didn’t care for anything. Hisato supposed she was far from it. The fox glanced sidelong at Hisato, then briefly at Fuyu.

_ He is a bit on the slow side. I can’t communicate with him,  _ Hisato sent. The boy was watching them, enraptured by the fox, large as a wolf and four tails swaying behind her.

“I am Ryuu, a summons. This is Hisato, my obnoxious and very idiotic partner. He is also mute, which is why I’m here,” Ryuu explained apathetically. Hisato rolled his eyes.  _ Ask him why he stole the scroll, and on whose orders,  _ Hisato said. Ryuu repeated the questions to Fuyu.

“I can’t say,” the boy grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting. “I just do what I’m told. And before you ask,” he said, pointing somewhat threateningly at Hisato, “I taught myself how to defend and fight.”

Hisato smiled, trying to be trusting but probably falling short.

“Are you going to kill me? Take me back? ‘Cause I’m not letting you take me. I’ll fight my way out if I have to!” Fuyu leaped to his feet, blade already out and knees bent in a fighting stance. Hisato shook his head in exasperation.  _ I just want the scroll and some answers, you dumbass!  _ Ryuu decided to repeat that aloud too.

Fuyu tensed up, and some anger rose. He was easy to rile up. Hisato just stood up and began to walk northwest once more. He heard the boy drop the stance, completely faltering in disbelief.

“O-oi, what are you doing? Where are you going? Wait for me!”

Hisato glanced at the boy now walking alongside him. He tilted his head at the kid’s quick compliance. Ryuu’s tails flicked Hisato’s other side. A moment later, the fox’s drawling voice sounded in his head.

_ Can I leave? This is boring.  _ Hisato drew a hand down his face, lingering longer than necessary.

_ Fine. Let someone else come when I summon again.  _ The fox dipped her head and vanished, narrow eyes drifting over the boy one last time. Fuyu didn’t startle at the poof like Hisato expected him to. He was fully focused on continuing the journey back to whatever superior awaited him. And then getting to Konoha as fast as he could manage, back to a certain silver-haired nin he found himself dearly missing.

 

* * *

 

 

Another week, and still, they walked. On and on, hours and hours.

Hisato hunted for food. He managed to make Fuyu stop for much needed rest a few hours every night. He stayed up and took watch for the kid, disregarding his own need for sleep. Something inside him had made itself known, a dire instinct to protect, grown more prominent from the lives he had taken as Shinku. Fuyu had grown on him, wedged his way into Hisato’s hollow heart, not like an irritating thorn, but the strong roots of a plant. He supposed it was because Fuyu reminded him of his younger self.

Fuyu’s growing restlessness answered a few questions. They were near the end of their journey. Hisato pushed onwards, leading the boy through the marshes. Should there be any predator or enemy… it’s best he stays in front.

“Hey, why are you coming with me?” Fuyu’s voice called behind him, over a week too late. “I don’t need coddling, you know!” Hisato snorted, not even attempting at a hand-signed answer. The boy’s scowl could be heard from a country away.

“Since you’re still here… we are a few hours from the base. Just so you know, yeah?”

Hisato only nodded, though inside he was making calculations. It was unfamiliar territory here, far north of Hi no Kuni. He didn’t know the exact location, nor which nation they were trespassing in.

Marshes gave way to thick groves, and from there the trees became less leafy and more spaced out. There was no cover provided by the scarce branches and thin undergrowth. Hisato gazed at the opening in a hill up ahead. It was obvious, the base. Any child would know it was the base. Why was it out in the open, clear for enemies to attack? He felt the presence of more than animals in the trees.

Fuyu burst into a sprint, overtaking Hisato and calling out as he went, “Boss, I’m here!” Shadows on the lit cave walls, echoing footsteps. Then the ‘boss’ emerged. He was pale and had a bulky build, more a liability than anything. Ordinary looking, just like Fuyu. He dismissed the boy running up to him and looked at Hisato.

The greed in those glinting eyes… Hisato instantly didn’t like him. His instincts were blaring for him to get away, take Fuyu and the scroll with him. He didn’t move though. Stay still, analyse, let the man make the first move. If he made a wrong step his life would cease.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Hisato narrowed his eyes, taking in the weapons on the man’s waist. Mostly daggers, and a longer blade. There was dried blood caked on them, and rust. The man was inexperienced and ignorant. “Get out of here!” he screeched. Hisato stood firm. The boss growled and turned on Fuyu, face twisted into an ugly snarl. He ripped the scroll from the boy’s back, and Hisato felt anger bubble inside at the small whimper coming from Fuyu. “Kill him!”

Ten masked ninjas formed out from the shadows of the trees, the ones that Hisato had previously dismissed. He put his guard up higher, realising these were ANBU. From what village, Hisato didn’t know. As the shinobi began to jump at him, Hisato drew kunai from his pouch.

He threw them, enhanced with chakra and aimed to kill. The one closest to him was caught in the crossfire, kunai tearing a hole through their head. Fuyu cried in surprise and Hisato glimpsed the boss dragging him away from the fight.

Hisato didn’t have time to wonder. He grabbed the katana aimed for his chest, feeling the blade cut into his palm. He used the shinobi’s momentum to launch them at a tree trunk behind. There was a sickening crunch and the shinobi fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. Another blanched at the dent left in the wood, guard down and body open.

Hisato used the distraction against them, charging a rasengan in the chest and striking the heart. They didn’t have time to scream in pain. He turned on the next three attacking simultaneously. Shadow clones exploded in front of him, taking the blows. In the smoke, Hisato sliced a head from shoulders. He continued the strike, clean and precise, turning it on the others. They, too, came to the same end.

The battle became ninjutsu. He evaporated fire with a wall of water, hastily made but holding strong. His senses tingled, and like many times in his life, Hisato’s instincts screamed at him to do  _ something _ . His movements were more erratic, the kills more messy. Blood sprayed a mural on the mud. Limbs were scattered around, far from their owners. There was still one more shinobi waiting. The captain, from the array of colours on their mask.

He glanced around frantically, searching for Fuyu. The scroll had disappeared, most likely taken into the cave. Fuyu stood hunched at its mouth, and his ‘boss’ was shouting at him. He couldn’t hear the words for the blood rushing loudly in his ears.

The captain came at him then, wakizashi in hand. Hisato dodged it, coming back at the shinobi from behind. He aimed for their nape, but they leaped away, sensing the attack. Hisato growled, impatient. He needed to finish this fight and get rid of the man that hired them.

The shouts suddenly stopped, trees falling into a dull, frozen air. A soft tone of finality replaced it.

“I’ll have to deal with the bastard you brought myself,” the boss whispered. Hisato reared back, grasping his shoulder and the shuriken embedded in it. He desperately wanted to look, stop whatever was about to happen. But the ANBU captain was persistent.

“You are no longer needed.”

Like a crushing wave, swift and strong, the blood in his ears became fierce in their path. He twisted under the wakizashi, finding Fuyu standing still, paralysed by fear and confusion. A dagger was rushing for his neck. Hisato saw it moving in slow motion. He made a move to get closer, but the captain landed another stab, impaling his side. His heart thundered, accentuated by each frame of movement shuttering in his vision. His leg collapsed. He went down.

He tried to flash away but his chakra wouldn’t move, wouldn’t flow. A restricting substance must be in the blade. Hisato pulled at it, using his raw strength to rip it clear through his front, completing its journey.

Fuyu managed one final sound. A whine, of agony or panic. Blood spilled rapidly through the messy slit in the boy’s neck. The rusted dagger lay abandoned on the ground. He didn’t look down though, eyes only for Fuyu. The child raised a hand, shuddering and shaky. Like a doll without strings. Like a nightmare that should be over by now. His lifeblood poured over the soft little hand, dripping off his elbow.

And then everything sped up. Fuyu fell, face-down in the mud. He did not twitch or move. 

Hisato was drowning. In what, it was hard to tell. Sorrow? Pain? Hatred? He just stopped. Stopped everything, let that ocean fill him to the point of flooding. He was numb and heavy and tingling. Shocked.

Is this a dream? It has to be. This boy, so quick to grow on him. Less than two weeks together. Suddenly gone, fallen. Because Hisato had failed. Failed to protect him.  _ Useless. I’m useless.  _ Even those thoughts were lost to the raging sea inside.

It was  _ so quick _ , all passed in seconds. Fuyu dead. Hisato drowning.

He pulled himself from the ground and choked out something akin to a  _ scream.  _ Insane and thick with grief, but so  _ weak _ . So  _ weak  _ and  _ quiet.  _ Hisato thrust the wakizashi into the captain, pulling it out and letting the shinobi slowly bleed out.

His vocal cords strained from years of disuse. The pain filled his veins, gave him strength.  _ This is nothing.This is nothing to what you’re gonna get. _

Hisato grabbed the rusted dagger. The dagger that had killed Fuyu. He pushed the man to the ground, sitting on his stomach. He grabbed the other blades and pinned the man to the ground with them.

The following cry fulfilled him.  _ Yes, feel it. It’s what you  _ deserve.  _ YOU DESERVE IT! _

“Your name?” Hisato croaked, tone threatening and dangerous and barely audible. The man beneath him whimpered and panted.

“Sakazu. It’s Sakazu!” Hisato grinned and sliced his mouth. Sliced his tongue. He would choke on it. Hisato decided to give him one last parting gift before he went to hell.

He struck with the dagger again and again. In, out; in, out. Hisato let his rage be known with every incision, using all of his considerable strength.

“ _ YOU _ !” Thud.

“ _ FUCKING _ !” Thud.

“ _ DESERVE _ !” Thud.

“ _ IT _ !” Thud.

Sakazu was already dead.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where is Hisato?” Kakashi kept a cool face, staring at the same words on the same page of the orange novel he always read. Hiruzen took a long draw of his pipe and leaned forward in his seat. Kakashi could feel those sharp eyes on him. He stayed still and didn’t twitch.

“He is on an unofficial mission and will be back at an undetermined time,” Hiruzen stated.  _ Unofficial mission?  _ Rare and usually done unprepared.

“And what does this mission entail? When did he leave?” he asked, trying to come across as disinterested but definitely falling short.

“The retrieval of the Forbidden Scroll. He left eight days ago.” Another ring of smoke. Kakashi looked up from his book and finally noticed the concern and worry in the lines of the Hokage’s face. Kakashi didn’t have to ask him to clarify. Hiruzen already knew what the jounin wanted. “Hisato should have been back the same day.”

 

* * *

 

 

Blood ran down Sakazu’s face in rivulets, spilling out of his mutilated mouth, detached jaw and onto the ground. Hisato didn’t flinch, still atop the cooling body.

Every drop changed his view. Glimpses of a black pool of hair. Red eyes. Black eyes. Fade back to Sakazu; back to that figure. Hisato squeezed his eyes shut against the sight. 

The dregs of rage were calming and leaving his body. He breathed deeply, almost choking on the coppery scent that wafted below. His fatigue caught up with him, striking like a sword to his chest. He struggled to rise, to move his arms or any limb at all. They were locked with exhaustion. He rolled off Sakazu, untied hair landing in the blood.

Hisato pressed numb hands to the mud and pushed himself up. His chin went down to his chest, ragged breaths drawn in and out. Bile curdled in his throat, constantly burning and aching. Hisato finally stood on quaking legs and glanced at the drying blood of Sakazu.

No matter what he told himself…  _ It’s not him, it’s not him. It can’t be him. Of course he isn’t. Don’t let me see this.  _ But there he was, cloaked in blood once more, looking like he never should. Vulnerable. Motionless. Dead.

_ You’re not Sasuke. _

He rubbed at his eyes and wheezed. The image did not fade.  _ Am I hallucinating? Is this real? Am I dreaming? I hope I am. _

_ Naruto? _

_ Naruto, what’s wrong? _

_ Don’t cry, dobe. _

Hisato froze, tensed up and ready to spring. He let chakra settle in his hand, screaming for escape.

He dared to glance back. His neck twisted slowly, not fluid or graceful but lagging and hesitant.

There was no one on the ground anymore. Standing in Sakazu’s place, stalking towards him and very much alive… Sasuke.

Hisato reached up a hand. His eyes widened and the tears didn’t stop. They fell fast and full and wrenching. 

“Are you there?” Hisato whispered. He closed the space between them. The tattered fabric his hand closed around was real and soft. His eyes rose to meet Sasuke’s charcoal ones. Something is off, his mind said. He didn’t listen.

He thought. He remembered. He dove deep into long-buried memories.

_ “Don’t cry, dobe.” The words were harsh, stern, but underlaid with affection, fondness, familiarity. Naruto stiffened and rubbed at his eyes. How could it be fine? How could he not cry? He vowed not to, that they wouldn't help. But in the privacy of the temporary camp, Naruto let go. _

_ “It’s my fault,” he whispered, wiping his hands down his cheeks. “I could have saved her. It’s my fault she’s dead. I might as well have been her killer.” _

_ A cold hand settled on his shoulder. Naruto glanced up and met Sasuke’s eyes. His brother had a soft gaze for once, understanding and open. The comfort eased his soul and his tears subsided.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Naruto sighed. “What’s happened has happened and there’s no use dwelling on it.” Sasuke stayed silent, hearing him out. The Uchiha always did that, always listened. He never dismissed him or ridiculed him. His best friend, comrade, brother. _

_ Naruto faced him now, and for once he was sure of what to do. Their foreheads pressed together, the closest they had been since that battle in the Valley of the End. _

_ A voice rose outside their tent but the words weren’t coherent. Naruto growled in frustration, refusing to let go. Sasuke yelled something back, tone stony and demanding. _

_ “Leave us be and go find some other straggler.” _

_ “Ha-hai!” _

_ Naruto raised a brow, “You still sound like a cold bastard.” He whispered to himself, “and still are one too.” Sasuke punched his stomach. Naruto felt the breath go out of him. He gave an airy chuckle and retaliated with one of his own. _

_ “You know…” Naruto started a while later. Their foreheads still rested against each other, and no one had summoned them again. “This quarrel- this  _ war-  _ I think I understand it now. The need to fight.” Sasuke hummed and he went on. “It’s engraved into a shinobi from the moment they pick up a kunai. I suppose… it’s a calling of some sort. Trained to fight, to protect our village and pride and peace. Without something to fight against, what do we live for?” _

_ Sasuke didn’t answer with words. He drew closer to him, legs tangling with his own. But after some time, the time they had together wearing off, Sasuke found his words. _

_ “Humans are dirty and foul and greedy. War is inevitable and unavoidable. It can’t be prevented, only fought against with tooth and claw. Don’t think about it so much, Dobe. Your brain will melt.” _

So quickly, the memory passed through. The words and smell and touch lingered, and Hisato could no longer control himself. His hand roved, up to his brother’s cheek. The skin was real beneath his fingers. But it was so, so cold.

_ Naruto, think. _

_ I’m not here. I’m not here. _

Hisato shook his head, desperate.

“What do you mean,” he choked out, voice breaking. “You are. You’re right here.”

Sasuke didn’t respond. He removed Hisato’s hand, gently moving it down.

His brother disappeared. He didn’t have time to react before the wakizashi impaled him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think, and what you would like to see more of!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the mission...

Hisato choked out blood and ichor. He was frozen, brain fuzzy and unmoving. Shocked, pained, confused. One moment he was talking with his brother, the next he was impaled with the same goddamned sword from barely an hour ago.

Hisato sensed the ANBU captain’s chakra behind. The ninja was still alive. And Sasuke… probably a genjutsu. A blasted illusion that he refused to notice. Even the imaginary Sasuke had warned him- which, of course,  _ made no sense _ \- and he didn’t listen!

He groaned as the blade twisted, inching deeper into his heart. A fatal wound to kill him. But he smirked at the attempt. A futile attempt to end an immortal’s life. Hisato twisted his chakra into a malicious wave. The captain sensed the change and the blade retracted.

His chest burned from the wounds, like lava and needles intertwining and shooting out in sparks through his torso. Hisato slumped forward from the blinding agony, almost ending up in mud. He caught himself and whirled around, hand clenched in a fist and aiming for his opponent. The punch only grazed against the patterned ferret’s mask, leaving cracks in its wake. Hisato stood straight again. His chest became itchy as the skin stitched itself together. The mask of the captain fell, revealing a scarred, old face. Fear was etched there in the widening of his eyes and curving of his brows, identical to all the others he had seen.

Arrays of water and fire flitted around in a twister of elements. Regaining his wits, the shinobi just managed to leap out of its way. Hisato made the same move too, somersaulting through the air and ducking beneath a wave of kunai. The weapons kept coming, summoned from scrolls and sent hurtling one after the other. He was forced to go on the defensive.

More whizzed around him, then came shooting back,  well-aimed senbon amongst them. Two struck his arm. He sliced with wind and knocked the rest. A wave from the left and right. Four clones of some kind. He launched upwards. The next barrage assaulted him in the air. Right where he wanted it.

Rapid signs, an influx of chakra. A great torrent of wind and dust greeted him, rising around him like a shield. He flashed down, shadow clones popping into awakening on the way. One for each of the opponents.

He thudded behind one and cut through his torso. The figure crumbled to dirt.  _ Earth clone, huh? _

The clap of a dispersing clone came from the left, and Hisato rushed to intercept. The fight became empty of signs purely a battle of taijutsu, and Hisato quickly gained the upper hand. His chakra blade ran the captain through, and this time it brought blood. Unable to recover, the man was pushed back to the trees. Hisato struck again, cutting into the skin like paper. Blood sprayed his front and Hisato continued the gash downwards. He cut deeper as he went. Organs and fluids spattered the mud, gleaming white peaking out amidst the red.

The captain did not make a sound as he was sliced in half.

Hisato furrowed his brow at the scene and stepped back. He looked away from the carnage, clutching an arm tightly with the other. The senbon had pierced his chakra points, and his arm was tingly and useless.

Fuyu’s abandoned body made his eyes narrow. The boy needed a true send-off, one of a full-fledged shinobi. He stopped a foot away and let an abyss of silence replace his waves.

_ Sayonara. I hope you find home.  _ Black flames licked at him, racing up and down his body in hot rivulets. It traveled to Fuyu, cloaking him completely. Fast and clean. Not even ashes were left. Like Fuyu had never existed; Hisato tried not to think about that. No prying person could steal the boy away.

Hisato stared up at the dreary skies, the scent of an approaching snow in the air. He fisted at his sleeve, clenching it tightly and drawing blood. He looked at the sky to the south, as if the gateway to Konoha would open before him.

_ I’m a long way from my own home, Fuyu. _

 

* * *

 

 

Two arduous weeks later, and the ache gnawing at him became nigh unbearable. Hisato ambled over another gale, feet dragging in the dust. He did not stop for food or water or sleep. His chakra was occupied with keeping him alive, and his wounds had yet to heal.

The gates of Konoha poked out from the forest, and Hisato focused on the feeling of  _ home. _ The trees loosened their strangling hold, and he felt lighter. A shinobi ran up to him, throwing questions and worry. Hisato squinted his hazy eyes and made out the face of Kotetsu. He waved him off in a way that implied anything but being fine, hand drooping and barely held up. He passed the guard, intent on getting through Konoha on his own. Kotetsu attempted to stop him but Hisato dodged again, unwelcoming of the contact.

When another figure blurred in front of him, instantly recognisable, Hisato accepted the support. 

Distinctly, he heard the new arrival mutter, “reckless bastard.” Hisato smiled, eyes closing. Arms pulled him to a shoulder, and a dizziness sparkled in his stomach. He felt the man gently lower him down onto a plush bed, comforting and warm. His chest tightened at the gesture, and he couldn’t help but pull a tiny smile on. The hands holding him were safe and Hisato never wanted to be left alone again. 

The man pulled a chair to his bedside and settled in it. A large hand grasped his own firmly. Soft hair tickled his elbow. Hisato tilted his head and gazed fondly at the mop of silver. Kakashi just came closer, and his fingers clutched harder, unyielding.

“You scared me, going off so long like that,” Kakashi’s muffled voice rumbled. Hisato chuckled and managed to turn onto his side to face his friend. He brushed his fingers through the tassels of hair.

“I’m here now,” Hisato croaked, words nonsensical like a child’s. Kakashi’s head lashed up, and their eyes lined up, tired meeting widened. Hisato saw the shock written there. He strained a smile, tight with pain. It probably looked more like a grimace.

“W-what?” Kakashi stuttered. Hisato fought down the agony in his tender chest, still yet to heal. Hands closed around his face. He nuzzled into them, covering one with his own unsteady hand.

He opened his mouth to speak again when more pain lanced up from his chest, along with something else. He wrenched himself from Kakashi’s hold, sitting up and coughing violently into his quivering hand. It came back red and sticky. The bed rocked from more weight and there was Kakashi, sitting against him.

Hisato was pulled against his side, warmth filling up and chasing away the cold he’d been living in. Kakashi whispered urgently, “don’t talk.” Hisato nodded, resting his forehead on the man’s chest. Kakashi’s hand rubbed his back in strong circles.

“I didn’t think that I’d- that I’d ever hear your voice,” Kakashi’s voice broke. Hisato’s body wracked with more coughing, face scrunching with pain. He felt his chest clench at those words. He didn’t expect to either. “What… what happened, to bring it out?” he asked hesitantly. Hisato shook his head, squeezing back the tears. Fuyu was still fresh in his mind. His death. Burning his corpse. He rubbed desperately at the moisture on his cheeks, sniffling harshly. 

It wasn’t good to keep this despair to himself. Hisato needed to show someone, ease the burden that weighed a ton on his conscience and made him  _ wish  _ for a different life. A better one he did not deserve _.  _ He outstretched his arms so Kakashi could see his hands. [ _ I can show it to you… if you want. _ ]

“You don’t have to if you can’t. But if it doesn’t trouble you, then yes,” Kakashi muttered patiently. Hisato pulled away from the embrace and looked into Kakashi’s lone eye. He moved his hands, slowly, as if asking for permission again. Met with no resistance, they rested on Kakashi’s temples. 

And so he relived it again.

A fight. Brief and brutal. That pain of the wakizashi. Turning. Seeing…

Rage and anguish. A weak cry, but unsettling, terrifying and wrought with so many emotions. Fuyu… dead.

Picking up the dagger. Stabbing. Again and again. Piercing flesh and blood spraying on his own face, warm and familiar… like home, like the violence he was used to.

He hid a little from Kakashi. Just the names and the face. But the feeling was there. Of Sasuke. Of the war.

Then the last fight, the torment of his heart being literally twisted apart.

He cried again, and not just him. Those arms were drawing him in again, with an almost bone-breaking pressure. 

“You should sleep,” Kakashi said. Hisato held on tighter, sending a message through the hug.  _ Don’t leave. Stay here, with me.  _ Kakashi laid him down again. The covers lay abandoned at the foot of the bed. They pressed together, entangled and warm. Hisato felt that safety once more, rubbing him with electricity wherever their bodies met. It was with that feeling he closed his eyes.

Hisato no longer kept the exhaustion away.

 

* * *

 

 

Hisato awoke to the sound of heavy breathing tickling his ear. Kakashi’s arms are embracing him in an unmovable hold and his back is coated in heat. He tried to shuffle from the circle of limbs but Kakashi held him closer. A soft grumble came from the man and Hisato had to hold back a smile.

He pat lovingly at Kakashi’s hands. Hisato was hungry and restless. He needed to get up, not to mention hand in a report to the Hokage… even if it was the last thing on his mind. When Kakashi did not stir, Hisato tapped more urgently. 

“I’m up,” Kakashi finally mumbled. Those hands loosened their hold, and Hisato slithered free from the bed. He scurried around the room, sifting through drawers and finding parchment and a pen. He sat at the table, scribbling furiously as Kakashi cooked eggs on the stove.

It was hard to write. The words conjured up memories from a hell he just left behind. But protocol outweighed his own needs. Kakashi placed a plate in front of him as he finished. They ate quickly, and Kakashi was the first to break the silence.

“I meet with my team at 7. You’ve nothing to do so tag along.” Kakashi added, “I’m sure you know where to find us.”

Hisato wasn’t offered a chance to refuse. He sighed and rolled his eyes. [ _ I need to drop this report off. I’ll come by as soon as I can. _ ] Kakashi smiled smugly. A glance at the clock and he rose from his seat. There was no warning before the jonin erupted into leaves. Shaking his head, Hisato gathered his papers and rubbed at his chest roughly. A minor ache stabbed with the pressure. But Hisato focused on the task at hand.

In a flicker, he stood before the Hokage’s desk, said man already sending him a levelled gaze.

“Arigato,” Sarutobi said, grimacing as he relieved Hisato of the report. “And thank you to your summon for bringing the Scroll back personally. Wait here a moment,” he added. The Sandaime read through the report swiftly. The usual verbal briefing wasn’t exactly possible. 

The Hokage’s face gave nothing away, though Hisato could feel the apprehension wafting around him as he neared the end. Hisato imagined what he was reading now- the reported injuries, vague on how they befell him. The Hokage set down the papers slowly and raised his eyes, piercing his own. The scrutiny made him want to twitch, but he knew the Hokage was looking for the mentioned injuries, or any sign of pain.

The Sandaime pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt to ease an oncoming headache.

“I can’t have one of my best shinobi incapacitated,” he sighed, pointedly looking at Hisato’s chest.  _ I’m not helpless, _ Hisato thought angrily. He didn’t bother to let the Sandaime know that. “Take a week off and  _ rest.  _ You can leave.” Hisato saluted and flashed to the old training ground.

A few things happened at once. Kakashi, sitting in the shade of a tree, raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. A crash was followed by a raucous, frustrated yell. Another one, arrogant and marginally quieter, threw an insult. Then the third, oozing passion, let out an incomprehensible comment.

He swallowed once and hesitated, before daring a glance at the trees to the right. Naruto was sprawled on the grass, still yelling. He struggled to look at Sakura, in the highest branches and making many faces at once. But because of that stupid flashback… He almost had to turn away, run like a coward. Sasuke noticed him and met his eyes from halfway up the tree. The distraction made him fall.

Hisato saw the Valley again, his brother falling away with a small smile on his face.

He breathed in sharply and hastily went to Kakashi, putting on a facade of calm. [ _ Anything you want me to do? _ ] Kakashi gave him a thorough look, no doubt seeing through his mask, before standing up.

“Come over here, team!” They were quick to assemble. Hisato found himself avoiding Sasuke entirely. Kakashi placed a hand on his shoulder, disguising the gesture of comfort. “This is Hisato, another jounin.” Naruto gave the loudest greeting. Hisato merely dipped his head, inwardly cringing at the volume. “You’re gonna be seeing him around often, and he’ll help out a bit.”

_ Of course.  _ Hisato almost snorted. Trust Kakashi to pin some of the responsibility onto him. Before an awkward silence could settle, Hisato gave Kakashi a sharp nudge and pointed look.

“He is also mute,” the jounin finished.

“What is he here for.” The tone was more demand than question. Hisato hid his flinch behind shuffling his shoulders. He didn’t want to hear that voice so soon. But he had to step up. As Kakashi’s friend, as a somewhat sensei, as someone for the genin to look up to.

Their eyes were on him as he crouched, drawing a finger along the dirt and scratching marks. At a silent cue from Kakashi, they all sat down to examine the elegant kanji scrawled in the ground.

_ Trust. _

Sakura tilted her head, obviously wondering how it was relevant. Naruto was utterly clueless, staring at the character blandly. Sasuke caught the look and turned his head up.

“It says trust, baka.”

Naruto bristled, “I know it does!” But he didn’t know. Because no one ever taught him. He chased the thought away.

Hisato crossed his fingers and shadow clones surrounded them. The genin jumped with surprise, only relaxing when the clones moved away to the centre of the training ground. Earth rumbled and towering walls rows, with hurdles and spikes between. Kakashi had caught on, staring at the earthen spikes with doubt.

Hisato drew once more in the dirt.

[ _ Trust in your teammates will save you in a pinch. Let them guide you, and carry you from danger. Don’t disregard them, ignore them, dismiss them. Respect them, acknowledge them, work together. _ ] He used the wind to pull down Naruto’s hitai-ate over his eyes. The boy flailed for a moment before Kakashi halted him.

“Sasuke, Sakura, you will be telling Naruto where to go. Naruto, you will follow their lead and try to finish the course.”

As the two genin called from the sidelines, Hisato played distraction. His pipes sang a merry, upbeat song, gaining speed like an intense chase, designed to throw the genin off. It drove them deep beneath pressure.

They failed to complete the exercise.

 

* * *

 

 

“I understand how you feel! I understand what it is like to be alone-“

Sasuke cut him off abruptly with a frustrated outcry. Hisato knew what would happen next.

“What do you know?” Sasuke yelled in anger. “What the hell do you know about it?! It’s not like you ever-“ A hand over his mouth stopped the next words from coming out. Hisato stood as a wall between them, his other hand on Naruto’s shoulder. Both halted in their fight to watch the redhead.

He sent a glance to Sasuke, trying to convey a message.  _ I do too. I feel the same _ . He couldn’t tell if the boy read it.

Hisato crouched low, going eye-level with the two boys. “This is not a game about who has the greatest pain. You are teammates and comrades. Pointless words like these will get you killed quickly. Sasuke, never speak the words you were about to say. They hurt more than you know,” he said quietly, slow enough to pronounce it mostly right, but the tone got them to stop. The anger got them to stop.

Sasuke looked distinctly shocked. Hisato hoped he didn’t let the nostalgia he felt show in on his face when he glanced at Sasuke. But what he could have said, had Hisato not stopped him…

He remembered so clearly, when he heard it the first time. The pain of it, the truth the words held. 

_ What the hell do you know about it?! It's not like you ever had a family in the first place! You were on your own right from the beginning, what makes you think you know anything about it?! Huh?! I'm suffering now because I had those ties, how on earth could you possibly understand, what it feels like to lose all that?! _

Sasuke turned away, face burning with anger. Hisato sighed and straightened again. He steered Naruto away from Sasuke, and led him to the opposite end of the training ground. Here, Hisato twisted the blond around to face him. He could see the hurt flashing brightly in those cerulean eyes. The boy truly wore his heart on his sleeve.

Hisato smiled tenderly. “Trying to make him feel better was a good move, but Sasuke’s not easy to talk to,” he said.

Naruto avoided his gaze, instead staring up at the cloudy skies. Hisato did too, attempting to see what the other saw. But the world was too large to focus on, and Hisato felt small. He shivered and turned back.

“You looked like you knew what he was about to say. You did, didn’t you?” Naruto said, pouting. Ah yes, the boy was observant. Hisato watched Sasuke as the boy rested a palm against a tree trunk, very much looking like he wanted to punch it.

“I did.”

Naruto just gazed at him expectantly. Hisato shook his head.

“I won’t tell you, and I recommend you do not ask Sasuke. Go join Kakashi and Sakura.” he shooed him off. Naruto looked confused but Hisato was already gone, heading towards Sasuke. The Uchiha turned his head.

“What do you want.”

“I wanted to talk to you. And I want you to listen,” he added as Sasuke discretely scanned for an escape route. The boy halted and listened.

“You are right. Naruto doesn’t understand.” Sasuke looked up triumphantly. Hisato’s eyes glinted. “But what you were going to say… I refuse to let you ever even  _ think  _ of those words.”

Sasuke huffed, “is that all?”

“No. Whilst what you did was wrong, I wanted you to know that I… that I know how you feel,” he whispered. The boy switched on, ready to burst out. “Don’t shout. Use your mind, will you?! You’re smart, and yet you’re so- just, think.” Hisato grabbed Sasuke’s shoulders firmly, demanding him to see. “You are not the only one who has lost  _ everything.  _ You are  _ not the only one, _ ” he spoke harshly. Too harshly, perhaps.

Sasuke reeled back in shock. His eyes seemed to clear. Hisato took a deep breath.

“Naruto  _ does  _ have no one. No, he  _ did  _ have no one. But he has his team, and that includes you.  _ You  _ have your team. Do not think-  _ do not think for one moment that you are all alone in this world.  _ I’m here with you too,” he said, suddenly soft and comforting. He pulled Sasuke close to him, and the boy was too surprised to respond. “I’m here with you too. Talk to me, sit with me in silence for all I care. Just know that I’m here with you.”

Sasuke pressed his face in Hisato’s shoulder. His shirt became damp, but that was alright. He knew Sasuke needed it. Someone to be family to him. To let himself go. After all, those emotions had been locked up for years.

 

* * *

 

 

When Kakashi stared at him for the umpteenth time, Hisato had to plant his foot down.

“What,” he asked drily. Kakashi chuckled, tone mixed. Hisato could hear the amusement, and also the joy. “Is it my voice?” he asked, suddenly fond. Kakashi stood up and crossed over to him.

It was night. Dark. Quiet. Hisato loved those things. The world seemed smaller and he could fit in perfectly. There was no isolation by the sheer greatness of the land. And now, in this tiny world, Kakashi felt much closer than ever.

The Hatake extended a hand. Hisato accepted the invitation and slipped his hand into that tight grip. He was pulled up, to the center of the open room. Kakashi didn’t speak for a while, and the two basked in the silence that had become so familiar between them.

“I have known you for a year. For an entire year, I had never heard your voice. Now that you can speak again… It’s so sudden that I can’t wrap my head around it,” Kakashi said distantly. The man was staring out the window onto the village below. The street lights were dimmed by the fog. There was no natural ray of white from the moon or stars.

“I imagined it, you know...” His tone was dull but thick with an indescribable ache. “your voice.” Hisato looked up quickly, trying to read Kakashi’s eye, but it was closed. “I hear it now, and all my imaginings are proved wrong. Despite that- despite that, I don’t think I’ve heard anything so…” Kakashi drifted off and Hisato couldn’t make out the words. 

He couldn’t look. His eyes burned. He squeezed them shut and he clenched his fists. Warm, bare hands on his cheeks guided his gaze back to Kakashi. Except there was no mask covering Kakashi’s face. There was no hitai-ate. Both eyes were open, the fully-matured sharingan staring deeply into Hisato, recording everything. And Kakashi’s face… For the first time, Hisato could see his face.

Oh, for how many years had he tried; to see under the mask only to find another underneath? To wonder why he wore a mask in the first place? And he could see. He could see now. The undeniable beauty, the emotions so much clearer and honest. That face was happy now. Trembling but full of great joy.

“ _ I see you. I see you _ ,” Hisato croaked. He raised his own hands, shaking twice as much, and placed them around Kakashi’s neck. He felt the solid muscles there, and couldn’t help but let his fingers roam down his back. Kakashi purred or groaned or something but Hisato didn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Their eyes met, deep violet to charcoal and blood red. Everything zoomed in and stayed there. Then lips were on his, searching and feeling. Hisato kissed back with everything he had. It was wild and free, but full of love and yearning. Kakashi’s tongue searched his mouth, brushing against his own. Teeth on teeth, tongue on tongue. His stomach felt  _ hot _ . 

Hisato dug his nails into Kakashi’s shoulders. Kakashi moved his own hands, one on Hisato’s waist, holding him closer. The other pulled his braid out and let crimson hair fall around him, swaying below his hips. Hisato put his hands in silky white hair, raking through them incessantly.

All the while, tears were falling. From him,  _ and  _ from Kakashi. He felt the tears sing between them, between their chests that now pressed together. They broke apart, breathing hard. It took all of his willpower not to pounce on Kakashi. His knees gave out and he fell against Kakashi. They dropped to the floor together, just like that one time many months ago when Hisato had  _ lost hope _ . When Kakashi stood strong as his only pillar, refusing to crumble. And then again, only a few nights ago, when Hisato almost fell into that hopeless void once more. When Kakashi cried with him too. And here they cried once more. For love or something no one could understand. That they were once alone and found each other.

That they could never lose each other. Even when they fell into Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehem... that ended up being 4000 words oop. plz comment, author loves ur thoughts and wants some motivation


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